2 


THELIBRARYOF 

JOHNWICKUFF 

MITCHELL 

PANA' ILLINOIS 
*1835  **  1914* 
BEQVEATHED'BY 
MRS.  MARY  F. 
IC1TCHELL 

IN  1931 

LIBRARYOFTHE 
VNIVERSITY 
OF*  ILLINOIS 


e>i  7 


JOSEPH  MCDONOUGH 

RARE  BOOKS 

v  ALBANY  -  N.  Y. 


I 


U«  Ubrnrj 
ol  the 

of  HIWs. 


Out  of  the  Hurly-Burly; 

OB, 

LIFE  IN  AN  ODD  CORNER. 


BY 

MAX  ADELER. 


iittl)  ttmrltj  four  gunbreb  Muotrations, 


ARTHUR  B.  FROST,  FRED.  B.  SCHELL,  WM.  L.  SHEPPARD  AND 

ED.  B.  BENSELL. 


GEORGE  MACLEAN  &  CO., 

PHILADELPHIA,  NEW  YORK,  BOSTON,  CINCINNATI  AND  CHICAGO. 
N.  D.  THOMPSON  &  CO.,  ST.  LOUIS,  MO. 

1874. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 
CHARLES  HEBER  CLARK, 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


Westcott  &  Thomson, 
Stereotypers  and  Eleclrotypers,  Philada. 


DEDICATION. 


$17 

C54o 

C.<t rp.  2. 


I  have  resolved  to  dedicate  this  book  to  a  humorist  who  has  had 
too  little  fame,  to  the  most  delicious,  because  the  most  unconscious, 
humorist,  to  that  widely-scattered  and  multitudinous  comedian  who 
may  be  expressed  in  the  concrete  as 

THE  INTELLIGENT  COMPOSITOR. 

<7% 

To  his  habit  of  perpetrating  felicitous  absurdities  I  am  indebted 
for  laughter  that  is  worth  a  hundred  groans.”  It  was  he  who  put 
into  type  an  article  of  mine  which  contained  the  remark,  “  Filtra¬ 
tion  is  sometimes  accomplished  with  the  assistance  of  albumen,”  and 
transformed  it  into  “  Flirtation  is  sometimes  accomplished  with  the 
resistance  of  aldermen.”  It  was  he  who  caused  me  to  misquote  the 
poet  s  inquiry,  so  that  I  propounded  to  the  world  the  appalling  co¬ 
nundrum,  “  Where  are  the  dead,  the  varnished  dead  ?”  And  it  was  his 
glorious  tendency  to  make  the  sublime  convulsively  ridiculous  that 
rejected  the  line  in  a  poem  of  mine,  which  declared  that  a  “comet 
swept  o’er  the  heavens  with  its  trailing  skirt,”  and  substituted  the 
idea  that  a  “count  slept  in  the  haymow  in  a  traveling  shirt.”  The 
kind  of  talent  that  is  here  displayed  deserves  profound  reverence. 
It  is  wonderful  and  awful ;  and  thus  I  offer  it  a  token  of  my  marvel¬ 
ing  respect. 


'S 


“  Fun  is  the  most  conservative  element  of  society,  and  it  ought  to 
be  cherished  and  encouraged  by  all  lawful  means.  People  never 
plot  mischief  when  they  are  merry.  Laughter  is  an  enemy  to 
malice,  a  foe  to  scandal  and  a  friend  to  every  virtue.  It  promotes 
good  temper,  enlivens  the  heart  and  brightens  the  intellect.” 


PREFACE 


It  seems  to  be  necessary  to  say  a  few  words  in  reference  to 
the  contents  of  this  volume  as  I  offer  it  to  the  public.  Several 
of  the  incidents  related  in  the  story  have  already  appeared  in 
print,  and  have  been  copied  in  various  newspapers  throughout 
the  country.  Sometimes  they  have  been  attributed  to  the 
author;  but  more  frequently  they  have  been  given  either 
without  any  name  attached  to  them,  or  they  have  been 
credited  to  persons  who  probably  never  saw  them.  The  best 
of  the  anecdotes  have  been  imitated,  but  none  of  them,  I  be¬ 
lieve,  are  imitations.  I  make  this  statement,  so  that  if  the 
reader  should  happen  to  encounter  anything  that  has  a 
familiar  appearance,  he  may  understand  that  he  has  the 
original  and  not  a  copy  before  him.  But  a  very  large  por¬ 
tion  of  the  matter  contained  in  the  book  is  entirely  new,  and 
is  now  published  for  the  first  time ;  while  all  the  rest  of  it  has 
been  rewritten  and  improved,  so  that  it  is  as  good  as  new. 

If  this  little  venture  shall  achieve  popularity,  I  must  at¬ 
tribute  the  fact  largely  to  the  admirable  pictures  with  which 
it  has  been  adorned  by  the  artists  whose  names  appear  upon 
the  title  page.  All  of  these  gentlemen  have  my  hearty  thanks 
for  the  efforts  they  have  made  to  accomplish  the  best  results ; 
but  while  I  express  my  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  land¬ 
scapes  of  Mr.  Schell,  the  admirable  drawings  of  Mr.  Sheppard 
and  the  excellent  designs  of  Mr.  Bensell,  I  wish  to  direct  at¬ 
tention  especially  to  the  humorous  pictures  of  Mr.  Arthur 


PREFACE. 


'  6 

Frost.  This  artist  makes  his  first  appearance  before  the  pub¬ 
lic  in  these  pages.  These  are  the  only  drawings  upon  wood 
that  he  has  ever  executed,  and  they  are  so  nicely  illustrative 
of  the  text,  they  display  so  much  originality  and  versatility, 
and  they  have  such  genial  humor,  with  so  little  extravagance 
and  exaggeration,  that  they  seem  to  me  surely  to  give  prom¬ 
ise  of  a  prosperous  career  for  the  artist. 

It  is  customary  upon  these  occasions  to  say  something  of 
an  apologetic  nature  for  the  purpose  of  inducing  the  public 
to  believe  that  the  author  regards  with  humility  the  work  of 
which  he  is  really  exceedingly  proud — something  that  will 
tend  to  soften  the  blows  which  are  expected  from  ferocious 
and  cruel  critics.  But  I  believe  I  have  nothing  of  this  kind 
to  offer.  If  I  thought  the  book  required  an  apology,  I  would 
not  publish  it.  Any  reviewer  who  does  not  like  it  is  at  liberty 
to  say  so ;  and  I  am  the  more  ready  to  accord  him  this  per¬ 
mission  because  I  am  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  he 
will  hit  as  hard  as  he  wants  to  whether  I  give  him  leave  or 
withhold  it.  All  I  ask  is  that  the  volume  shall  have  fair 
play.  If  it  is  successful  as  an  attempt  to  construct  a  book  of 
humor  which  will  contribute  to  innocent  popular  amusement 
without  violating  the  laws  that  govern  the  construction  and 
orthography  of  the  English  language,  and  as  an  effort  to  give 
pleasure  to  sensible  grown  people  without  offering  entertain¬ 
ment  to  children  and  idiots,  it  deserves  commendation.  If  it 
is  a  failure  in  these  respects,  then  it  ought  to  be  suppressed, 
for  it  certainly  has  no  mighty  moral  purpose,  and  it  is  not 
designed  to  reform  anything  on  earth  but  the  personal  for¬ 
tunes  of  the  author. 


MAX  ADELER. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

The  founder  of  New  Castle — A  search  for  quietness — Life  in 
the  city  and  in  the  village — Why  the  latter  is  preferable — Pe¬ 
culiarities  of  the  village — A  sleepy  old  town — We  erect  our 
family  altar .  25 


CHAPTER  IT. 

A  very  dangerous  invention — The  patent  combination  step- 
ladder — Domestic  servants — Advertising  for  a  girl — The 
peasant-girl  of  fact  and  fiction — A  contrast .  36 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  view  upon  the  river — A  magnificent  panorama — Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Cooley — Matrimonial  infelicities — The  case  of  Mrs.  • 
Sawyer — A  blighted  life — A  present — Our  century  plant  and 
its  peculiarities .  47 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Judge  Pitman — His  experiment  in  the  barn — A  lesson  in  natu¬ 
ral  history — Catching  the  early  train — One  of  the  miseries 
of  living  in  the  village — Ball’s  lung  exercise — Mr.  Cooley’s 
impertinence .  56 


7 


8 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

PAGE 

A  little  love  affair — Cowardice  of  Mr.  Parker — Popular  interest 
in  amatory  matters — The  Magruder  family — An  event  in  its 
history — Remarkable  experiments  by  Mrs.  Magruder — An  in¬ 
dignant  husband — A  question  answered .  68 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  editor  of  our  daily  paper — The  appearance  and  personal 
characteristics  of  Colonel  Bangs — The  affair  with  the  tomb¬ 
stone — Art  news — Colonel  Bangs  in  the  heat  of  a  political 
campaign — Peculiar  troubles  of  public  singers — The  phenom¬ 
ena  of  menageries — Extraordinary  sagacity  of  the  animals — 

The  Wild  Man  of  Afghanistan .  84 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Battery  and  its  peculiarities — A  lovely  scene — Swede  and 
Dutchman  two  hundred  years  ago — Old  names  of  the  river — 
Indian  names  generally — Cooley’s  boy — His  adventure  in 
church — The  long  and  the  short  of  it — Mr.  Cooley’s  dog  and 
our  troubles  with  it .  99 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Morning  Argus  creates  a  sensation — A  new  editor — Mr. 
Slimmer  the  poet — An  obituary  department — Mr.  Slimmer 
on  death — Extraordinary  scene  in  the  sanctum  of  Colonel 
Bangs — Indignant  advertisers — The  colonel  violently  as¬ 
saulted — Observations  of  the  poet — The  final  catastrophe — 
Mysterious  conduct  of  Bob  Parker— The  accident  on  Ma¬ 
gruder’ s  porch — Mrs.  Adeler  on  the  subject  of  obituary  poetry 
in  general . . .  113 


CONTENTS. 


9 


CHAPTER  IX. 

PAGE 

The  reason  why  I  purchased  a  horse — A  peculiar  characteristic — 
Driving  by  the  river — Our  horse  as  a  persecutor — He  becomes 
a  genuine  nightmare — Experimenting  with  his  tail — How  our 
horse  died — In  relation  to  pirates — Mrs.  Jones’s  bold  corsair — 

A  lamentable  tale .  134 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  picturesque  church — Some  reflections  upon  church  music — 

Bob  Parker  in  the  choir — Our  undertaker — A  gloomy  man — 

Our  experience  with  the  hot-air  furnaces — A  series  of  acci¬ 
dents — Mr.  Collamer’s  vocalism — An  extraordinary  mistake...  152 

CHAPTER  XI. 

A  fishing  excursion  down  the  river — Difficulties  of  the  voyage — 

A  series  of  unfortunate  incidents — Our  return  home,  and  how 
we  were  received — A  letter  upon  the  general  subject  of  ang¬ 
ling — The  sorrows  of  the  fishermen — Lieutenant  Smiley — His 
recollections  of  Rev.  Mr.  Blodgett — A  very  remarkable  mis¬ 
sionary .  164 

CHAPTER  XII. 

How  the  plumber  fixed  my  boiler — A  vexatious  business — How 
he  didn’t  come  to  time,  and  what  the  ultimate  result  was — An 
accident ;  and  the  pathetic  story  of  young  Chubb — Reminis¬ 
cences  of  General  Chubb — The  eccentricities  of  an  absent- 
minded  man — The  rivals — Parker  versus  Smiley .  183 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

An  evil  day — Flogging-time  in  New  Castle — How  the  punish¬ 
ment  is  inflicted — A  few  remarks  upon  the  general  merits  of 
the  system — A  singular  judge — How  George  Washington 
Busby  was  sentenced — Emotions  of  the  prisoner — A  cruel  in¬ 
fliction,  and  a  code  that  ought  to  be  reformed .  200 


10 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PAGE 

A  Delaware  legend — A  story  of  the  old  time — The  Christmas 
play — A  cruel  accusation — The  flight  in  the  darkness  along 
the  river  shore — The  trial  and  the  condemnation — St.  Pil¬ 
lory’s  day  seventy  years  ago — Flogging  a  woman — The  de¬ 
liverance .  211 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  very  disagreeable  predicament — Wild  exultation  of  Parker — 
He  makes  an  important  announcement — An  interview  with 
the  old  man — The  embarrassment  of  Mr.  Sparks,  and  how  he 
overcame  it — A  story  of  Bishop  Potts — The  miseries  of  too 
much  consolidation — How  Potts  suffered,  and  what  his  end 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Old  Fort  Kasimir — Two  centuries  ago — The  goblins  of  the  lane 
— An  outrage  upon  Pitman’s  cow — The  judge  discusses  the 
subject  of  bitters — How  Cooley  came  home — Turning  off  the 
gas — A  frightful  accident  in  the  Argus  office — The  terrible 
fate  of  Archibald  Watson — How  Mr.  Bergner  taught  Sunday- 
school  .  255 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  dismal  sort  of  day — A  few  able  remarks  about  umbrellas — 

The  umbrella  in  a  humorous  aspect — The  calamity  that  befell 
Colonel  Coombs — An  ambitious  but  miserable  monarch — The 
influence  of  umbrellas  on  the  weather — An  improved  weather 
system — A  little  nonsense — Judge  Pitman’s  views  of  weather 
of  various  kinds .  278 


CONTENTS. 


11 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PAGE 

Trouble  for  the  hero  and  heroine — A  broken  engagement  and 
a  forlorn  damsel — Bob  Parker’s  suffering — A  formidable  en¬ 
counter — The  peculiar  conduct  of  a  dumb  animal — Cooley’s 
boy  and  his  home  discipline — A  story  of  an  echo .  293 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  certificate  concerning  Pitman’s  hair — Unendurable  persecu¬ 
tion — A  warning  to  men  with  bald-headed  friends — An  ex¬ 
planation — The  slanderer  discovered — Benjamin  P.  Gunn — 

A  model  life-insurance  agent .  306 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  certain  remarkable  book — A  few  suggestions  respecting  Bos¬ 
ton — Delusions  of  childhood — Bullying  General  Gage — Judge 
Pitman  and  the  catechism — An  extraordinary  blunder — The 
facts  in  the  case  of  Hillegass — A  false  alarm .  324 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Settling  the  business — Vindication  of  Mr.  Bob  Parker — A  com¬ 
plete  reconciliation — The  great  Cooley  inquest — The  uncer¬ 
tainty  in  regard  to  Thomas  Cooley — A  phenomenal  coroner — 

The  solution  of  the  mystery .  334 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

An  arrival — A  present  from  a  Congressman — Meditation  upon 
his  purpose — The  patent-office  report  of  the  future — A  plan 
for  revolutionizing  public  documents  and  opening  a  new  de¬ 
partment  in  literature — Our  trip  to  Salem — A  tragical  event 
— The  last  of  Lieutenant  Smiley .  350 


12 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PAGE 

Pitman  as  a  politician — He  is  nominated  for  the  Legislature — 
How  he  was  serenaded,  and  what  the  result  was — I  take  a 
hand  at  politics — The  story  of  my  first  political  speech — My 
reception  at  Dover — Misery  of  a  man  with  only  one  speech — 

The  scene  at  the  mass  meeting — A  frightful  discomfiture .  363 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  wedding-day  —  Enormous  excitement  in  the  village — 
Preparations  for  the  event — The  conduct  of  Bob  Parker — The 
ceremony  at  the  church,  and  the  company  at  Magruder’s — A 
last  look  at  some  old  friends — Depai  ure  of  the  bride  and 
groom — Some  uncommonly  solemn  reflections,  and  then — 

The  end . . .  387 


List  of  Illustrations. 


NO.  PAGE 

1 .  — Frontispiece. 

2.  — Title  Page .  1 

3.  — The  Founder  of  the  Village  ( Initial  Letter) .  25 

4.  — A  Professor  of  Music . . .  26 

5.  — A  Disgusted  Agriculturist .  28 

6.  — New  Castle  from  the  Kiver  ( Full  Page ) .  32 

7.  — The  Real  Peasant-Girl  ( Initial  Letter ) .  36 

8.  — A  Dangerous  Invention .  37 

9.  — The  Early  Morning  Fire .  39 

10.  — The  Ideal  Peasant-Girl .  42 

11.  — Unsymmetrical  Cold  Beef .  43 

12.  — The  View  down  the  River  {Full  Page ) .  46 

13.  — A  Family  Jar  ( Initial  Letter) . .  47 

14.  — A  Musical  Navigator .  48 

15.  — The  Nocturnal  Dog .  49 

16.  — Mr.  Sawyer’s  Nose .  52 

17.  — The  Man  with  the  Century  Plant .  53 

18.  — A  Lively  Vegetable .  54 

19. — Judge  Pitman’s  Bag  ( Initial  Lett er) .  56 

20.  — The  Judge  introduces  Himself . . .  57 

21.  — Pitman’s  Musical  Experiment .  59 

22.  — That  Infamous  Egg .  60 

23.  — The  Dog  by  the  Wayside..... .  61 

24.  — Catching  the  T  iain .  61 

25.  — Hauled  In .  62 

2 


13 


14  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

NO.  PAGE 

26.  — My  Lung  Exercise .  64 

27.  — An  Altercation  with  Cooley .  66 

28.  — A  Female  Professor  ( Initial  Letter) .  68 

29.  — The  Lamp  Turned  Low .  68 

30.  — Studying  Up .  69 

31.  — Parker  Eelating  his  Woes .  69 

32.  — Magruder’s  Wooing . .  72 

33.  — A  Queer  Feeling  in  his  Head .  72 

34.  — Magruder  Tells  his  Brother .  73 

35.  — The  Class  Going  Up .  74 

36.  — A  Secreted  Observer .  74 

37.  — A  General  Attack  on  the  Subject  (Full  Page ) .  78 

38.  — Peeping  Through  the  Crack .  79 

39.  — A  Furious  Husband .  80 

40.  — An  Asinine  Being  (Initial  Letter) .  84 

41.  — The  Colonel’s  Bravery .  85 

42.  — An  Interview  with  Cooley .  86 

43.  — That  Tombstone .  87 

44.  — Mr.  Mullins  Explains .  88 

45.  — Exit  Murphy .  89 

46.  — A  Late  Call .  91 

47.  — A  Captive  Maiden .  91 

48.  — Excavating  Her .  92 

49.  — Her  Feet .  92 

50.  — That  Antiquarian .  92 

51.  — The  Raging  Rhinoceros .  94 

52.  — The  King  of  Beasts .  94 

53.  — The  Rival  Lovers . 96 

54.  — On  the  Settee .  96 

55.  — She  Sat  on  Him .  97 

56.  — Too  Thin .  97 

57.  — The  Wild  Man .  98 

58.  — The  Fat  Woman . 98 

59.  — The  Boy  of  the  Period  (Initial  Letter) .  99 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS.  15 

NO.  PAGE 

60.  — The  Battery  ( Full  Page ) .  102 

61.  — An  Ancient  Warrior .  103 

62.  — A  Raid  on  the  Melon-Patch . .  105 

63.  — Communing  with  Jones’s  Boy .  106 

64.  — Held  Fast .  107 

65. —  The  Solemnity  of  Jones .  107 

66.  — Taking  him  Out .  108 

67.  — Not  Matched . 109 

68. — Dosing  a  Cur .  110 

% 

69— Over  the  Fence  and  Back  Again .  110 

70.  — Muchjtoo  Faithful .  Ill 

71.  — Cruelty  to  an  Animal .  112 

72.  — Removing  a  Mouthful . . .  112 

73.  — A  Patron  of  the  “Argus”  (Initial  Letter) . . .  113 

74.  — The  Poet .  114 

75.  — The  Editor  Explaining  his  Views . * .  115 

76.  — The  Throes  of.  Composition .  116 

77.  — A  Row  of  Readers..... .  117 

78.  — Taking  a  Peep .  117 

79.  — The  Scene  in  the  Sanctum .  118 

80.  — That  Monkey .  119 

81.  — Mrs.  Smith’s  Woe .  120 

82. — Bartholomew’s  Indignant  Father .  122 

83.  — Mr.  McFadden .  124 

84.  — The  Editor  meets  the  Poet . . .  126 

85. — The  Colonel  in  a  Tight  Place .  127 

86. — Going  up  Stairs .  128 

87. — In  Highland  Costume .  130 

88. — Why  Bob  Stayed .  130 

89— Sawing  him  Out .  131 

90. — Mrs.  Adeler’s  Views .  132 

91. — Bob’s  Trousers .  133 

92.  — The  New  Mazeppa  ( Initial  Letter) .  134 

93.  — Cooley  at  an  Auction . . .  135 


16  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

NO.  PAGB 

94.  — Our  Urbane  Horse .  136 

95.  — Trying  to  Catch  Up .  138 

96.  — Kicking .  139 

97.  — A  Nightmare .  140 

98.  — Haunted .  141 

99.  — An  Artificial  Tail .  142 

100.  — A  Demoralized  Horse . .  142 

101.  — It  Came  Off! .  143 

102.  — The  Melodramatic  Freebooter .  144 

4 

103.  — Mrs.  Jones’s  Pirate .  145 

104.  — Sweeping  the  Horizon .  146 

105.  — The  Weekly  Wash .  146 

106.  — Hailing  the  “Mary  Jane” .  147 

107.  — A  General  Massacre .  147 

108.  — The  Paternal  Jones .  148 

109.  — She  Puts  on  her  Things .  148 

110.  — Slaying  the  Captain .  149 

111.  — “False!  False!” . 150 

112.  — More  Butchery .  150 

113.  — Suicide  of  the  Widow .  150 

114.  — The  Wreck  of  Mrs.  Jones .  151 

115. — A  Chorister  ( Initial  Letter ) . 152 

116.  — The  Spire .  153 

117. — Sinful  Games .  154 

118. — The  Old  Church  ( Full  Page) .  156 

119.  — A  Chinese  Prayer . .  157 

120.  — The  Minister  and  1 .  157 

121.  — In  the  Pipe .  158 

122.  — Bob  in  the  Choir .  158 

123.  — The  Undertaker’s  Sign .  159 

124.  — A  Gloomy  Man . 160 

125.  — Very  Warm  Work .  161 

126.  — Collamer  Falls  In .  161 

127.  — The  Clergyman .  162 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS.  17 

NO.  PAGE 

128.  — Collamer  Sings . . .  162 

129.  — He  Asks  a  Question .  163 

130.  — A  Ribald  Boy .  163 

131.  — A  Fisherman  (Initial  Letter) .  164 

132.  — Bringing  ’em  Home .  164 

133.  — Pushing  Off .  165 

134. — We  Change  Places .  165 

135.  — Cooling  Off .  166 

136.  — Waiting  for  Bites .  166 

137.  — Anchor  Gone .  166 

138.  — Fixing  an  Oar .  167 

139. — Lost  Him .  167 

140.  — Saved .  167 

141.  — A  Tangle .  168 

142.  — The  Man  who  Owned  the  Boat .  168 

143.  — A  Successor  of  Izaak  Walton .  169 

144.  — A  Disheartened  Digger .  170 

145.  — Tears .  171 

146.  — Watching  the  Cork .  171 

147.  — A  Naked  Hook .  171 

148.  — The  Last  Match .  172 

149.  — Caught  on  a  Limb .  173 

150.  — A  Playful  Eel .  174 

151.  — Wriggling . 174 

152.  — Pulling  In .  175 

153.  — That  Infamous  Boy . . .  175 

154.  — A  South  Sea  Islander .  177 

155.  — Mr.  Blodgett,  Missionary .  177 

156.  — Going  to  the  Picnic .  177 

157.  — The  Vestry  Meeting  .  178 

158.  — Putting  them  to  Sleep .  178 

159.  — The  Funeral  Service .  179 

160.  — The  Remaining  Warden .  179 

161. — Going  Home .  180 

2* 


18  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

NO.  PAGE 

162.  — He  Paddled  his  own  Canoe .  180 

163.  — Smashing  poor  Mott .  181 

164. — A  Fijian .  182 

165.  — Our  Plumber  ( Initial  Letter) .  183 

166.  — He  Examines  the  Kange .  .  184 

167.  — I  Meet  Him .  184 

168.  — How  he  Goes  to  Wilmington .  184 

169.  — An  Indignant  Artisan .  185 

170.  — On  the  Asparagus  Bed.... . .  185 

171. — The  Condition  of  my  Grass-plot .  186 

172.  — At  the  Front  Gate . . .  186 

173.  — A  View  of  the  Ruins .  187 

174.  — Watching .  188 

175.  — One  of  the  Robbers .  188 

176.  — Mr.  Nippers  Enters .  188 

177.  — I  Expostulate  with  Nippers .  189 

178.  — Mrs.  Cooley’s  Servant .  190 

179. — She  Shakes  Henry .  190 

180.  — Bob  as  an  Author .  191 

181.  — Young  Chubb .  191 

182.  — Mysterious  Music .  192 

183.  — “What  does  this  Mean?” .  193 

184. — Trying  to  Make  him  Disgorge . . .  193 

185.  — Henry’s  Brother  tries  Pressure .  194 

186.  — Exit  with  the  Sexton .  194 

187.  — The  Tomb  of  Chubb .  195 

188.  — General  Chubb’s  Legs .  196 

189.  — The  Influence  of  Art .  197 

190.  — The  General  Dives  In .  197 

191.  — Through  the  Canvas .  197 

192.  — Pilloried  ( Initial  Letter ) .  200 

193.  — Infant  Spectators .  201 

194.  — The  Whipping-post .  201 

195.  — An  Ancient  Custom .  202 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS.  19 

NO.  PAGS 

196.  — That  Remarkable  Judge .  204 

197. — George  Washington  Busby . .' .  205 

198.  — The  Jury .  205 

199.  — Maternal  Love .  206 

200.  — Manhood’s  Toil .  206 

201.  — Busby  Whispers  to  the  Tipstaff .  207 

202.  — More  Hopeful  Still .  207 

203.  — His  Infant  Steps .  208 

204.  — Busby’s  Heart  grows  Lighter .  209 

205.  — The  Thunderbolt  Falls . 209 

206.  — Leading  him  Out .  210 

207.  — Wielding  the  Lash  ( Initial  Letter) .  211 

208.  — Hob-nobbing .  212 

209. — The  Major  in  a  Sulk . .  213 

210.  — The  Lovers .  215 

211.  — “Where  did  You  get  That?” .  217 

212. — The  Flight  by  the  Eiver .  219 

213.  — Dick  Confesses .  226 

214.  — Wearing  the  Wooden  Collar .  228 

215.  — A  Flogging  Seventy  Years  Ago  (Full  Page) .  230 

216.  — Pardoned .  233 

217.  — A  Broken  Man .  235 

218.  — The  Market  Green  and  the  Old  Church .  236 

219. — A  Juvenile  Musician  (Initial  Letter) .  237 

220.  — Caught .  238 

221.  — Can’t  Reach  It .  238 

222.  — Creeping  Out .  239 

223.  — Back  Again  in  a  Hurry .  239 

224.  — A  Mighty  Ugly  Situation .  240 

225. — Listening .  240 

226.  — Parker  Exults .  241 

227.  — The  Second  Hornpipe .  241 

228.  — He  Surveys  her  Dwelling .  241 

229.  — Old  Sparks’s  Sacred  Dust .  244 


20  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

NO.  PAGE 

230.  — A  Conscientious  Tombstone .  244 

231.  — Bishop  Potts .  246 

232.  — A  Warm  Welcome .  246 

233.  — A  Surprise  for  the  Bishop .  247 

234.  — The  Bride  goes  Home  in  a  Kow .  248 

235.  — Potts  Meditates .  249 

236.  — Waving  Farewell .  249 

237.  — The  Bishop  is  Confounded .  250 

238.  — Starting  the  Third  Time .  252 

239.  — Potts  becomes  Hysterical .  253 

240.  — The  Peruvian  Monk .  253 

241.  — The  Maniac  Doctor . ; .  253 

242.  — Bob  gives  an  Opinion . 254 

243.  — Potts’s  Child .  254 

244.  — On  the  Ramparts  ( Initial  Letter) .  255 

245.  — The  Site  of  Fort  Kasimir  ( Full  Page) .  258 

246.  — Modern  Warriors .  259 

247.  — A  Dutch  Goblin .  260 

248.  — Pitman  tells  of  his  Griefs .  260 

249.  — A  Troublesome  Cow .  261 

250.  — That  Scandalous  Blind-board .  261 

251.  — The  Temperance  Society  makes  an  Inspection .  262 

252.  — “I’ll  Knock  the  Stuffin’  out  o’  him” .  262 

253.  — The  Judge’s  Bitters  Advertisements .  263 

254.  — He  Takes  a  Tonic . 263 

255.  — Another  Dozen .  264 

256.  — Cooley’s  Illuminated  Nose .  265 

257. — “Out,  Brief  Candle” .  266 

258. — “There  was  Mrs.  Cooley  a-Watchin’” .  266 

259.  — Dr.  Hopkins  is  Amazed . .  267 

260. — Appalling  Intelligence . 268 

261.  — The  Commodore’s  Tomb .  269 

262. — The  Fall  of  Simms .  270 

263. — “  Knock ’em  with  a  Pole” .  270 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS.  21 

JfO.  PA0S 

264. — Hit  by  an  Apple .  271 

26o.  -Tim  Keyser’s  Nose .  272 

266.  — “He  Slid  Around  so  Quick” .  272 

267.  — “He  Cut  an  Opening  in  the  Ice” .  273 

268. — The  Pickerel  Bites .  273 

269.  — “The  Better  of  the  Fight” . •....  274 

270. — “And  Pulled  Tim  Keyser  Through” .  274 

271. -^Under  Water .  275 

272.  — An  Awful  Sneeze .  275 

273.  — He  Floats  Ashore .  276 

274.  — “He  Very  Eoundly  Swore” .  276 

275.  — At  Dinner .  277 

276.  — A  Very  Wet  Time  ( Initial  Letter) .  278 

277.  — A  Damp  Fisherman .  279 

278.  — Forlorn .  279 

279.  — The  Comic  Umbrella .  280 

280.  — Delicate  Warriors .  281 

281.  — The  Experiment  of  Coombs .  281 

282.  — An  Embarrassed  Panther .  282 

283.  — Bringing  Home  the  Monster .  282 

284.  — Getting  Ready  for  Action .  283 

285. — The  Medicine  Man  Dies .  283 

286.  — Cooley  Awaits  the  Simoom .  286 

287.  — The  Judge  Enjoys  the  Weather .  290 

288.  — Perfectly  Satisfied .  291 

289.  — The  Genuine  Weather-Gauge . 292 

290. — “A  Friend  of  Man”  ( Initial  Letter) . . .  293 

291.  — The  Impetuosity  of  Bob . i.,.*,.*..., . . .  296 

292.  — A  Somnambulist . , .  297 

293.  — A  Precautionary  Measure .  297 

294.  — Dreaming  of  Magruder .  297 

295.  — Under  the  Bed .  298 

296.  — Bob  is  Amazed .  298 

297.  — Hunting  for  Henry .  29$ 


22  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

NO.  PAGE 

298.  — The  Mystery  Unraveled . 299 

299.  — “Perfectly  Still” .  300 

300.  — The  Consequences  of  a  Sneeze .  301 

301.  — The  Dog  Leaves .  301 

302.  — I  Suddenly  Climb  the  Fence .  301 

303.  — Sold .  302 

304.  — “Commere  to  Me” .  302 

305.  — A  Victim . 303 

306.  — A  Human  Echo .  304 

307.  — It  won’t  Answer .  304 

308.  — After  that  Boy .  305 

309.  — A  Bald-headed  Party  ( Initial  Letter ) .  306 

310.  — A  Deluge  of  Letters .  308 

311.  — Mrs.  Singerly’s  Poodle .  309 

312. — The  Hally  of  the  Baldheaded .  309 

313.  — A  Microscopic  Examination .  310 

314.  — Benjamin  P.  Gunn .  313 

315.  — A  Visit  to  Mrs.  Kemper .  315 

316.  — Gunn  Waits  with  the  Doctor .  317 

317.  — Pounding  on  the  Partition .  317 

318.  — Up  the  Steeple .  318 

319.  — Into  the  Crater .  318 

320.  — Benjamin  is  Ejected .  319 

321.  — Portrait  of  Gunn .  319 

322.  — On  the  War  Path .  323 

323.  — General  Gage  and  the  Boy  ( Initial  Letter) .  324 

324.  — The  Judge  is  Puzzled .  329 

325.  — Catechizing  Him .  329 

326.  — The  Doctors  at  Hillegass’s  House .  330 

327.  — Hillegass  Recovers .  331 

328.  — The  Joke  on  the  Chief .  332 

329.  — A  Deluge . 332 

330.  — The  Combat  on  the  Stairs .  333 

331.  — A  Fireman . .  333 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS.  23 

50.  PAGE 

332.  — The  Bone  Controversy  ( Initial  Letter) .  334 

333.  — Examining  the  Premises .  335 

334.  — We  Proceed  Carefully .  336 

335.  — An  Explosion  at  Cooley’s .  339 

336.  — The  Remains  Scatter .  340 

337. — “  Fooling  with  a  Gun” .  341 

338.  — Selfridge  Argues  with  Smith . .*.  342 

339.  — The  Rival  Juries .  343 

340.  — Cooley  Turns  Up . , .  344 

341.  — “Tossed  the  Little  Baby” .  348 

342.  — That  Mummy .  349 

343.  — A  Patent-Office  Report  ( Initial  Letter ) .  350 

344.  — Pub.  Docs .  351 

345.  — Alphonso  Lies  in  Wait .  353 

346.  — Lucullus,  the  Serenader . 353 

347.  — Death  of  Alphonso .  354 

348.  — Lucullus  Breaks  Jail .  354 

349.  — Smith  Bombards  the  Artists .  355 

350.  — The  Lovers  Float  Ashore .  356 

351.  — A  Parting  Scene .  357 

352.  — Smiley  is  Intoxicated .  358 

353.  — “He  Leaped  into  the  Sea” .  360 

354.  — Bob  is  Rescued .  361 

355.  — Nursing  the  Invalid .  362 

356.  — Tail-piece .  362 

357.  — Before  the  Mass  Meeting  ( Initial  Letter ) .. .  363 

358 — The  Serenaders  at  Pitman’s .  365 

359 — Cooley  Argues  with  Daniel  Webster .  366 

360—  The  Discomfited  Drummer .  367 

361. — The  Kickapoo’s  Mistake .  369 

362. — A  Patriotic  Dutchman .  370 

363.  — Collapsed .  370 

364. — Commodore  Scudder’s  Dog .  371 

365. — The  Committee  Welcomes  Me .  373 


24  LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


NO.  PAGB 

366.  — The  Cold-eyed  Drummer .  375 

367.  — “Go,  Mark  him  Well” .  376 

368.  — Mr.  Hotchkiss’s  Joke .  379 

369.  — The  Drummer  Glares  at  Me .  381 

370.  — I  Retreat  in  Despair .  386 

371.  — A  Solemn  Vow .  386 

372.  — The  Waiter  (Initial  Letter ) .  387 

373.  — The  Collars  in  his  Trunk .  389 

374.  — A  Shirt-button  Lost .  390 

375.  — Waiting  for  the  Bride .  390 

376.  — At  the  Reception .  392 

377. — Pitman  Expresses  his  Views .  394 

378.  — “We  Flung  a  Shoe  after  Them” .  394 

379.  — The  Final  Bow .  398 

« 


Out  of  the  Hurly-Burly. 


✓ 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Founder  of  New  Castle — A  Search  for  Quietness — 
Life  in  the  City  and  the  Village — Why  the  Latter 
is  Preferable — Peculiarities  of  the  Village — A 
Sleepy  Old  Town — We  Erect  our  Family  Altar. 


F  Peter  Menuit  had  never 
been  born,  it  is  extremely 
probable  that  this  book 
would  not  have  been  writ¬ 
ten.  Mr.  Menuit,  however, 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
construction  of  the  volume, 
and  his  controlling  purpose 
perhaps  was  not  to  prepare 
the  way  for  it.  Peter  Men¬ 
uit  was  a  Swede  who  in 
1631  came  sailing  up  the 
Delaware  River  in  a  queer 
old  craft  with  bulging  sides 
and  with  stem  and  stern 
high  in  the  air.  Moved  by  some  mysterious  impulse,  he 
dropped  his  anchor  near  a  certain  verdant  shore  and 
landed.  Standing  there,  he  surveyed  the  lovely  scene  that 
lay  before  him  in  the  woodland  and  the  river,  and  then  an¬ 
nounced  to  his  companions  his  determination  to  remain  upon 


3 


23 


26 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


that  spot.  He  began  to  erect  a  town  upon  the  bank  that 
went  sloping  downward  to  the  sandy  beach,  and  his  only 
claim  to  the  immortality  that  has  been  allotted  to  him  is 
that  he  created  what  is  now  New  Castle. 

It  would  be  pleasant,  if  it  did  not  seem  vain,  to  hope  that 
New  Castle  will  base  its  aspirations  to  enduring  fame  upon 
the  circumstance  that  another  humble  personage  came,  two 
hundred  years  and  more  after  Menuit’s  arrival,  to  live  in  it 
and  to  tell,  in  a  homely  but  amiable  fashion,  the  story  of 
some  of  its  good  people,  and  to  say  something  of  a  few  of 
their  peculiarities,  perplexities  and  adventures. 

We  were  in  search  of  quietness.  The  city  has  many 
charms  and  many  conveniences  as  a  place  of  residence; 
and  there  are  those  who,  having  accustomed  themselves  to 
the  methods  of  life  that  prevail  among  the  dense  popula¬ 
tions  of  the  great  towns,  can  hardly  find  happiness  and 
comfort  elsewhere.  But  although  the  gregarious  instinct  is 
strong  in  me,  I  cannot  endure  to  be  crowded.  I  love  my 
fellow-man  with  inexpressible  affection,  but  oftentimes  he 
seems  more  lovable  when  I  behold  him  at  a  distance.  I 
yearn  occasionally  for  human  society,  but  I  prefer  to  have 
it  only  when  I  choose,  not  at  all  times  and  seasons  without 

intermission.  In  the  city,  how¬ 
ever,  it  is  impossible  to  secure 
solitude  when  it  is  desired.  If 
I  live,  as  I  must,  in  one  of  a 
row  of  houses,  the  partition 
walls  upon  both  sides  are  likely 
to  be  thin.  It  is  possible  that 
I  may  have  upon  the  one  hand 
a  professor  of  music  who  gives, 
throughout  the  day,  madden¬ 
ing  lessons  to  muscular  pupils  and  practices  scales  himself 
with  energetic  persistency  during  the  night.  Upon  the  other 


THE  CITY'S  TUMULT— AN  EARTHLY  PARADISE.  27 


side  there  may  be  a  family  which  cherishes  two  or  three  in¬ 
fants  and  sustains  a  dog.  As  a  faint  whisper  will  penetrate 
the  almost  diaphanous  wall,  the  mildest  as  well  as  the  most 
violent  of  the  nocturnal  demonstrations  of  the  children 
disturb  my  sleep ;  and  when  these  have  ceased,  the  dog  will 
probably  become  boisterous  in  the  yard. 

If  there  is  not  a  boiler-making  establishment  in  the  street 
at  the  rear  of  the  house,  there  will  be  a  saw-mill  with  a 
steam  whistle,  and  it  is  tolerably  certain  that  my  neighbor 
over  the  way  will  either  have  a  vociferous  daughter  w7ho 
keeps  the  window  open  while  she  sings,  or  will  permit  his 
boy  to  perform  upon  a  drum.  There  is  incessant  noise  in 
street  and  yard  and  dwelling.  There  is  perpetual,  audible 
evidence  of  the  active  existence  of  human  beings.  There  is 
too  much  crowding  and  too  little  opportunity  for  absolute 
withdrawal  from  the  confusion  and  from  contact  with  the 
restless  energy  of  human  life. 

It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  village  life  is  the  happiest 
and  the  most  comfortable,  and  that  the  busy  city  man  who 
would  establish  his  home  where  he  can  have  repose  without 
inconvenience  and  discomfort  should  place  it  amid  the  trees 
and  flowers  and  by  the  grassy  highway  of  some  pretty  ham¬ 
let,  wdiere  the  noise  of  the  world’s  greater  commerce  never 
comes,  and  where  isolation  and  companionship  are  both  pos¬ 
sible  without  an  effort.  Such  a  home,  planted  judiciously 
in  a  half  acre,  where  children  can  romp  and  play  and  where 
one  can  cultivate  a  few  flowers  and  vegetables,  mingling  the 
sentimental  heliotrope  with  the  practical  cabbage,  and  the 
ornamental  verbena  with  the  useful  onion,  may  be  made  an 
earthly  Paradise. 

There  must  not  be  too  much  ground,  for  then  it  becomes 
a  burden  and  a  care.  There  are  few  city  men  who  have  the 
agricultural  impulse  so  strong  in  them  that  they  will  find 
delight,  after  a  day  of  mental  labor  and  excitement,  in  rasp- 


28 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


ing  a  garden  with  a  hoe  in  the  hope  of  securing  a  vegetable 
harvest.  A  very  little  exercise  of  that  kind,  in  most  cases, 
suffices  to  moderate  the  horticultural  enthusiasm  of  the  in¬ 
experienced  citizen.  It  is  pleasant  enough  to  weed  a  few 
flowers  or  to  toss  a  spadeful  or  two  of  earth  about  the  roots 
of  the  grapevine  when  you  feel  disposed  to  such  mild  in¬ 
dulgence  in  exercise ;  but  when  the  garden  presents  tasks 
which  must  be  performed  no  matter  what  the  frame  of  mind 
or  the  condition  of  the  body,  you  are  apt,  for  the  first  time, 
to  have  a  thorough  comprehension  of  the  meaning  of  the 
curse  uttered  against  the  ground  when  Adam  went  forth 
from  Eden.  It  is  far  better  and  cheaper  to  hire  a  competent 
man  to  cultivate  the  little  field ;  then  in  your  leisure  mo¬ 
ments  you  may  set  out  the  cabbage  plants  upside  down  and 
place  poles  for  the  strawberry  vines  to  clamber  upon,  know¬ 
ing  well  that  if  evil  is  done,  it  will  be  corrected  on  the  mor¬ 
row  when  the  offender  is  far  away,  and  when  the  maledic¬ 
tions  of  the  agricultural  expert, 
muttered  as  he  relieves  the 
vegetables  from  the  jeopardy 
in  which  ignorance  has 
them,  cannot  reach  your  ears. 

I  like  a  house  not  too  old, 
but  having  outward  comeliness, 
with  judicious  arrangement  of 
the  interior,  and  all  of  those 
convenient  contrivances  of  the 
plumber,  the  furnace  -  maker 
and  the  bell-hanger  which 
make  the  merest  mite  of  a 
modern  dwelling  incomparably 
superior  in  comfort  to  the  most  stupendous  of  marble  palaces 
in  the  ancient  times.  I  would  have  no  neighbor’s  house 
within  twenty  yards  upon  either  side ;  I  would  have  noble 


THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  VILLAGE. 


29 


shade  trees  about  the  place,  and  I  would  esteem  it  a  most 
fortunate  thing  if  through  the  foliage  I  could  obtain  con¬ 
stant  glimpses  of  some  shining  stream  upon  whose  bosom 
ships  come  to  and  fro,  and  on  which  I  could  sometimes  find 
solace  and  exercise  in  rowing,  fishing  and  sailing. 

Village  life  is  the  best.  It  has  all  the  advantages  of  resi¬ 
dence  in  the  country  without  the  unpleasant  things  which 
attend  existence  in  a  wholly  rural  home.  There  is  not  the 
oftentimes  oppressive  solitude  of  the  country,  nor  is  there 
the  embarrassment  that  comes  from  the  distance  to  the  sta¬ 
tion,  to  the  shops  and  to  the  post-office.  There  are  the  city 
blessings  of  the  presence  of  other  human  beings,  and  of 
access  to  the  places  where  wants  may  be  supplied,  without 
the  crowds,  without  the  mixed  and  villainous  perfumes  of 
the  streets  and  without  the  immoderate  taxes.  With  the 
conveniences  of  a  civilized  community,  a  village  may  have 
pure  and  healthful  air,  opportunity  for  parents  and  children 
to  amuse  themselves  out  of  doors,  cheap  fare,  moderate  rent, 
milk  which  knows  not  the  wiles  of  the  city  dealer,  and  a 
moral  atmosphere  in  which  a  family  may  grow  up  away 
from  the  temptations  and  the  evil  associations  which  tend  to 
corrupt  the  young  in  the  great  cities. 

More  than  this,  I  like  life  in  the  village  because  it  brings 
a  man  into  kindlier  relations  with  his  fellows  than  can  be 
obtained  elsewhere.  In  the  city  I  am  jostled  at  every  step 
by  those  who  are  strangers  to  me,  who  know  nothing  of  me, 
and  who  care  nothing.  In  the  village  I  am  known  by  every 
one,  and  I  know  all.  If  I  have  any  title  to  respect,  it  is  ad¬ 
mitted  by  the  entire  society  of  the  place,  and  perhaps  I  may 
even  win  something  of  affection  if  I  am  worthy  of  it. 

In  the  couotry  town,  too,  you  may  have  your  morals  care¬ 
fully  looked  after.  There  are  prying  eyes  and  busy  tongues, 
and  you  are  so  conspicuous  that  unless  you  walk  straightly, 


30 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


the  little  world  around  you  shall  know  of  your  slips  and 
falls.  You  may  quarrel  with  your  wife  for  ever  in  the  city 
and  few  care  to  hear  the  miserable  story ;  but  in  the  village 
the  details  of  the  conjugal  contest  are  heralded  about  before 
•  the  day  is  spent. 

The  interest  that  is  felt  in  you  is  amazing.  The  cost  of 
your  establishment  is  as  well  known  as  if  it  were  blazoned 
upon  the  walls.  You  cannot  impose  upon  the  people  with  a 
pretence  of  splendor  if  you  have  not  the  reality ;  one  gossip¬ 
ing  old  woman  who  has  discovered  the  sham  will  make  you  an 
object  of  public  scorn  in  an  hour.  The  village  knows  how 
your  children  are  dressed  and  trained ;  how  often  you  have 
mutton  and  the  extent  of  your  indulgence  in  beef.  The  cost 
of  your  carpets  is  a  matter  of  common  notoriety ;  your  dif¬ 
ferences  with  your  servants  are  discussed  at  the  sewing-circle, 
and  the  purchase  of  new  clothing  for  your  family  is  a  concern 
of  public  interest.  The  arrival  of  your  wife’s  winter  bonnet 
actually  creates  excitement  in  the  village  society,  and  you 
are  certain,  therefore,  to  get  the  full  worth  of  your  investment 
in  that  article  of  dress,  while  the  owner  obtains  unlimited 
satisfaction ;  for  winter  bonnets  are  purchased  for  the  benefit 
of  other  people  chiefly,  not  for  the  convenience  and  happiness 
of  the  wearers. 

Every  man  is  something  of  a  hero-worshiper ;  and  if  in 
the  city  I  find  it  difficult  to  select  an  idol  from  among  the 
many  who  thrust  their  greatness  upon  me,  I  am  not  so 
embarrassed  in  the  village.  Here  I  will  probably  find  but 
one  man  who  is  revered  as  the  embodiment  of  the  worshipful 
virtues.  He  has  larger  wealth  than  any  of  his  fellow- 
villagers;  he  lives  in  the  most  sumptuous  house  in  the 
place;  he  belongs  to  the  oldest  family,  and  his  claim  to 
superiority  is  admitted  almost  without  question  by  his 
reverent  townsmen.  It  gives  me  joy  to  add  my  voice  to  the 
chorus  of  admiration,  and  to  feel  humble  in  that  presence 


NEW  CASTLE  FROM  THE  RIVER. 


Tk*  L/briry 

ol  th* 

N.^hr /*.*»:♦  y  a f  Ifflr-ati," 


I 


THE  GREAT  MAN  OF  THE  PLACE.  33 

wherein  my  neighbors  have  humility.  Sometimes,  of  course, 
I  cannot  help  perceiving  that  the  object  of  this  adoration  is, 
after  all,  a  very  pigmy  of  his  kind.  I  am  compelled  to 
admit  that  his  fortune  seems  large  only  because  mine  and 
Jones’s  are  small ;  that  his  house  is  a  palace  only  for  the 
reason  that  it  dwarfs  my  little  cottage;  that  if  unassisted 
brains  carried  the  day,  and  strutting  was  felonious,  he  would 
certainly  occupy  a  much  less  magnificent  position.  I  know 
that  in  a  greater  community  lie  would  be  wholly  insignifi¬ 
cant.  And  yet  I  admit  his  claim  to  profound  respect.  It 
pleases  me  to  see  him  play  his  little  part,  and  to  observe 
with  what  calm,  luxurious  confidence  in  his  own  right  and 
title  to  homage  he  passes  through  life.  And  I  know,  after 
all,  that  the  greater  men,  out  in  the  busy  hurly-burly  of  the 
world,  are  not  so  very  much  greater.  A  good  deal  of  their 
claim  to  superiority,  too,  is  a  miserable  sham  ;  and  doubtless, 
if  we  could  see  them  as  closely  as  we  see  our  village 
grandee,  we  should  find  that  they  also  depend  much  upon 
popular  credulity  for  the  stability  of  their  reputations. 

My  pompous  village  nabob,  too,  is  honest.  I  am  sure  of 
this.  He  helps  to  conduct  the  government  of  the  com¬ 
munity,  but  he  does  his  duty  fairly  and  he  is  a  gentleman. 
I  could  love  him  for  that  alone,  and  for  that  feel  a  deeper 
affection  for  life  in  his  village.  When  I  go  to  the  city  and 
perceive  what  creatures  wield  the  power  there,  when  I 
watch  the  trickery,  the  iniquity,  the  audacious  infamy,  of  the 
cliques  that  control  the  machinery  of  that  great  govern¬ 
ment,  and  when  I  look,  as  I  do  sometimes,  into  the  faces  of 
those  who  are  thus  leagued  for  plunder  and  power,  only  to 
see  there  vulgarity,  ignorance,  vice  and  general  moral 
filthiness,  my  soul  is  made  sick.  I  can  turn  then  with  plea¬ 
sure  to  the  simple  methods  with  which  our  village  is  governed, 
and  honestly  give  my  respect  to  the  guileless  old  gentleman 
who  presides  over  its  destinies. 


34 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


We  wish  for  quietness,  and  in  New  Castle  it  can  be 
obtained,  I  think,  in  a  particularly  concentrated  form. 
When  Swede  and  Dutchman  and  Englishman  had  done 
contending  for  possession  of  the  place,  there  was  peace  until 
the  Revolution  came,  and  with  it  ships  of  war  and  priva¬ 
teers,  and  such  hurrying  of  troops  and  supplies  across  from 
New  Castle  to  Frenchtown,  from  the  Delaware  to  the  Chesa¬ 
peake,  as  kept  the  old  town  in  a  stir.  There  was  then  an 
interval  of  repose  until  the  second  war  with  England,  when 
these  busy  scenes  were  re-enacted.  Later  in  the  century  a 
mighty  stir  was  made  by  the  construction  of  a  railroad,  one 
of  the  earliest  in  the  country,  to  Chesapeake  Bay ;  then,  as 
the  excitement  died  away,  the  old  town  gradually  went  to 
sleep,  and  for  nearly  forty  years  it  slumbered  so  soundly 
that  there  seemed  to  be  a  chance  that  it  would  never  wake 
again.  But  time  achieves  wonderful  things,  and  perhaps 
the  day  will  come  when  the  vicinity  of  the  old  town  to  the 
bay,  the  depth  of  wTater  at  its  shores  and  the  facilities 
offered  for  manufacturing  and  easy  transportation,  may 
make  the  village  a  great  industrial  centre,  with  hundreds  of 
mills  and  multitudes  of  working-people.  But  as  wre  join 
ourselves  to  the  community  there  is  no  promise  of  such  an 
awakening.  We  have  still  the  profound  repose  and  the 
absence  of  change  that  make  the  place  so  dear  to  those  wrho 
have  known  it  in  their  childhood.  There  are  the  paved 
streets  where  the  grass  grows  thickly ;  the  ancient  wharves 
protruding  into  the  stream,  deserted  but  by  the  anglers  and 
the  naked  and  wicked  little  boys  who  go  in  to  swim ;  the 
tumbling  stone  ice-piers,  a  little  way  out  in  the  river ;  the 
old  court-house,  whose  steeple  is  the  point  upon  which  moves 
the  twelve-mile  radial  line  whose  northern  end  describes 
the  semi-circular  boundary  of  Delaware ;  the  rickety  towrn- 
hall,  the  ancient  churches  and  the  grim  old  houses  with 
moss-covered  roofs,  the  Battery,  with  its  drooping  willows 


WE  MOVE  IN. 


35 


and  its  glorious  vista  of  river  and  shore  beyond,  and  the 
dense  masses  of  foliage,  shutting  out  the  sky  here  and  there 
as  one  passes  along  the  streets. 

Into  such  a  house  as  I  have  described,  not  far  from  the 
river,  and  with  our  neighbors  at  a  little  more  than  arm’s 
length,  I  have  come  with  wife  and  family,  with  household 
gods  and  domestic  paraphernalia  generally,  to  begin  the 
life  which  will  supply  the  material  wherewith  to  construct 
the  ensuing  pages.  It  may  perhaps  turn  out  that  the  better 
part  of  that  existence  will  not  be  told,  but  perchance  it  may 
be  that  the  events  related  will  be  those  which  will  possess 
for  the  reader  greatest  interest  and  amusement. 


I 


CHAPTER  II. 


A.  Very  Dangerous  Invention  —  The  Patent  Combination 
Step-ladder — Domestic  Servants — Advertising  for  a 
Girl — The  Peasant-girl  of  Fact  and  Fiction — A 
Contrast. 


STEP-LADDER  is  an  almost  in¬ 
dispensable  article  to  persons  who 
are  moving  into  a  new  house. 
Not  only  do  the  domestics  find  it 
extremely  convenient  when  they 
undertake  to  wash  the  windows, 
to  remove  the  dust  from  the  door 
and  window-frames,  and  to  per¬ 
form  sundry  other  household 
duties,  but  the  lord  of  the  castle 
will  require  it  when  he  hangs  his 
pictures,  when  he  fixes  the  cur¬ 
tains  and  when  he  yields  to  his 
wife’s  entreaty  for  a  hanging  shelf 
or  twTo  in  the  cellar.  I  would, 
however,  warn  my  fellow-countrymen  against  the  contrivance 
which  is  offered  to  them  under  the  name  of  the  “  Patent 
Combination  Step-ladder.”  I  purchased  one  in  the  city  just 
before  we  moved,  because  the  dealer  showed  me  how,  by  the 
simple  operation  of  a  set  of  springs,  the  ladder  could  be 
transformed  into  an  ironing-table,  and  from  that  into  a  com¬ 
fortable  settee  for  the  kitchen,  and  finally  back  again  into  a 
step-ladder,  just  as  the  owner  desired.  It  seemed  like  get- 
36 


A  TREACHEROUS  INVENTION . 


37 


ting  the  full  worth  of  the  money  expended  to  obtain  a  trio 
of  such  useful  articles  for  a  single  price,  and  the  temptation 
to  purchase  was  simply  irresistible.  But  the  knowledge 
gained  by  a  practical  experience  of  the  operation  of  the 
machine  enables  me  to  affirm  that  there  is  no  genuine  eco¬ 
nomical  advantage  in  the  use  of  this  ingenious  article. 

Upon  the  day  of  its  arrival,  the  servant-girl  mounted  the 
ladder  for  the  purpose  of  removing  the  globes  from  the 
chandelier  in  the  parlor,  and  while  she-  was  engaged  in  the 
work  the  weight  of  her  body  unexpectedly  put  the  springs 
in  motion,  and  the  machine  was  suddenly  converted  into  an 


ironing-table,  while  the  maid-servant  was  prostrated  upon 
the  floor  with  a  sprained  ankle  and  amid  the  fragments  of 
two  shattered  globes. 

Then  we  decided  that  the  apparatus  should  be  used 
exclusively  as  an  ironing-table,  and  to  this  purpose  it  would 
probably  have  been  devoted  permanently  if  it  had  suited. 
On  the  following  Tuesday,  however,  while  half  a  dozen 


38 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


shirts  were  lying  upon  it  ready  to  be  ironed,  some  one 
knocked  against  it  accidentally.  It  gave  two  or  three 
ominous  preliminary  jerks,  ground  two  shirts  into  rags, 
hurled  the  flat-iron  out  into  the  yard,  and  after  a  few  con¬ 
vulsive  movements  of  the  springs,  settled  into  repose  in  the 
shape  of  a  step-ladder. 

It  became  evident  then  that  it  could  be  used  with  greatest 
safety  as  a  settee,  and  it  was  placed  in  the  kitchen  in  that 
shape.  For  a  few  days  it  gave  much  satisfaction.  But  one 
night  when  the  servant  had  company  the  bench  was  perhaps 
overloaded,  for  it  had  another  and  most  alarming  paroxysm ; 
there  wras  a  trembling  of  the  legs,  a  violent  agitation  of  the 
back,  then  a  tremendous  jump,  and  one  of  the  visitors  was 
hurled  against  the  range,  while  the  machine  turned  several 
somersaults,  jammed  itself  halfway  through  the  window-sash, 
and  appeared  once  more  in  the  similitude  of  an  ironing-table. 

It  has  now  attained  to  such  a  degree  of  sensitiveness  that 
it  goes  through  the  entire  drill  promptly  and  with  celerity  if 
any  one  comes  near  it  or  coughs  or  sneezes  close  at  hand. 
We  have  it  stored  away  in  the  garret,  and  sometimes  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  a  rat  will  jar  it,  or  a  current  of  air  will 
pass  through  the  room,  and  we  can  hear  it  dancing  over  the 
floor  and  getting  into  service  as  a  ladder,  a  bench  and  a  table 
fifteen  or  twenty  times  in  quick  succession. 

The  machine  will  be  disposed  of  for  a  small  fraction  of  the 
original  cost.  It  might  be  a  valuable  addition  to  the  col¬ 
lection  of  some  good  museum.  I  am  convinced  that  it  will 
shine  with  greater  lustre  as  a  curiosity  than  as  a  household 
utensil. 

Perhaps  we  may  attribute  to  the  fantastic  capers  of  this 
step-ladder  the  dissatisfaction  expressed  by  the  servant  who 
came  with  us  from  the  city ;  at  any  rate,  she  gave  us  notice 
at  the  end  of  the  first  week  that  she  would  not  remain.  She 
is  the  ninth  that  we  have  had  within  four  months.  Mrs, 


HOUSEKEEPERS  AND  SERVANTS. 


39 


Adeler  said  she  was  not  sorry  the  woman  intended  to  go,  for 
she  was  absolutely  good  for  nothing;  but  I  think  a  poor 
servant  is  better  than  none  at  all.  Life  is  gloomy  enough 
without  the  misery  which  comes 
from  rising  before  daylight  to 
fumble  among  the  fires,  and 
without  living  upon  short  ra¬ 
tions  because  one’s  wife  has  no 
time  to  attend  to  the  cooking. 

I  am  not  sure,  at  any  rate, 
that  it  would  be  a  very  great 
advantage  to  have  thoroughly 
good  servants,  for  then  women  would  be  deprived  of  the 
very  evident  pleasure  they  now  take  in  discussing  the  short¬ 
comings  of  their  domestics.  The  practice  is  so  common  that 
there  must  be  supreme  consolation  in  the  sympathy  and  in 
the  relief  to  the  overcharged  feelings  that  are  permitted  by 
such  communion. 

Place  two  women  together  under  any  circumstances,  and 
it  makes  no  difference  where  the  conversation  starts  from, 
for  it  will  be  perfectly  certain  to  work  around  to  the  hired- 
girl  question  before  many  minutes  have  elapsed.  I  have 
seen  an  elderly  housekeeper,  with  experience  in  conducting 
the  talk  in  the  desired  direction,  break  in  upon  a  discussion 
of  Pythagoras  and  the  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of 
souls,  and  switch  off  the  entire  debate  with  such  expedition 
that  a  careless  listener  would  for  some  moments  have  an 
indistinct  impression  that  the  conversation  referred  to  the 
inefficiency  of  Pythagoras  as  a  washer  and  ironer,  and  to  the 
tendency  of  that  heathen  philosopher  to  take  two  Thursdays 
out  every  week. 

And  when  a  woman  has  an  unusually  villainous  servant, 
is  it  not  interesting  to  observe  how  she  glories  in  the  supe¬ 
rior  intensity  of  her  sufferings  as  compared  with  those  of 

4 


40 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


her  neighbors,  and  to  perceive  how  she  rejoices  in  her 
misery?  A  housewife  who  possesses  a  really  good  girl  is 
always  in  a  condition  of  wretchedness  upon  such  occasions, 
and  is  apt  to  listen  in  envious  silence  while  her  companions 
unburden  their  souls  to  each  other. 

Mrs.  Adeler  intimated  that  these  accusations  were  slan¬ 
derous,  but  she  ventured  to  observe  that  the  practical  ques¬ 
tion  which  required  immediate  consideration  was,  How  shall 
we  get  another  girl  ? 

“  There  is  but  one  method,  Mrs.  A. :  it  is  to  advertise.  Do 
not  patronize  the  establishments  which,  in  bitter  irony,  are 
styled  ‘  intelligence  offices.’  An  intelligence  office  is  always 
remarkable  for  the  dense  stupidity  of  everybody  connected 
with  it.  But  a  single  manifestation  of  intelligence  gleams 
through  the  intellectual  darkness  that  enshrines  the  souls 
of  the  beings  who  maintain  such  places.  I  refer  to  the  sin¬ 
gular  ability  displayed  in  extracting  two-dollar  bills  from 
persons  who  know  that  they  will  get  nothing  for  their 
money.” 

Mrs.  Adeler  admitted  that  it  would  perhaps  be  better  to 
advertise. 

“  How  would  it  answer  to  insert  in  the  daily  paper  an  ad¬ 
vertisement  in  which  sarcasm  is  mingled  with  exaggeration 
in  such  a  way  that  it  shall  secure  an  unlimited  number  of 
applications,  while  we  shall  give  expression  to  the  feeling 
of  bitterness  that  is  supposed  to  exist  in  the  bosom  of  every 
housekeeper  ?” 

She  said  she  thought  she  hardly  caught  the  idea  pre¬ 
cisely. 

“  Suppose,  for  instance,  we  should  publish  something  like 
this:  ‘Wanted:  a  competent  girl  for  general  housework. 
The  most  strenuous  effort  will  be  made  to  give  such  a  person 
complete  satisfaction.  If  she  is  not  pleased  with  the  furni¬ 
ture  already  in  the  kitchen,  we  are  willing  to  have  the 


ADVERTISING  FOR  A  DOMESTIC. 


41 


range  silver  plated,  the  floor  laid  in  mosaic  and  the  dresser 
covered  with  pink  plush.  No  objection  will  be  made  to 
breakage.  The  domestic  will  be  permitted  at  any  time  to 
disport  in  the  china  closet  with  the  axe.  We  consider  hair 
in  the  breakfast-rolls  an  improvement ;  and  the  more  silver 
forks  that  are  dropped  into  the  drain,  the  more  serene  is  the 
happiness  which  reigns  in  the  household.  Our  girl  cannot 
have  Sunday  out.  She  can  go  out  every  day  but  Sunday, 
and  remain  out  until  midnight  if  she  wishes  to.  If  her 
relations  suffer  for  want  of  sugar,  she  can  supply  them  with 
ours.  We  rather  prefer  a  girl  who  habitually  blows  out  the 
gas,  and  who  is  impudent  when  complaint  is  made  because 
she  soaks  the  mackerel  in  the  tea-kettle.  If  she  can  sprinkle 
hot  coals  over  the  floor  now  and  then,  and  set  the  house 
afire,  wTe  will  rejoice  the  more,  because  it  will  give  the  fire- 
department  healthful  and  necessary  exercise.  Nobody  will 
interfere  if  she  woos  the  milkman,  and  she  will  confer  a 
favor  if  she  will  discuss  family  matters  across  the  fence 
with  the  girl  who  lives  next  door.  Such  a  servant  as  this 
can  have  a  good  home,  the  second-story  front  room  and  the 
wThole  of  our  income  with  the  exception  of  three  dollars  a 
week,  which  wTe  must  insist,  reluctantly,  upon  reserving  for 
our  own  use.’ 

“  How  does  that  strike  you,  Mrs.  Adeler  ?”  . 

She  said  that  it  struck  her  as  being  particularly  non¬ 
sensical.  She  hoped  I  wouldn’t  put  such  stuff  as  that  in  the 
paper. 

“  Certainly  not,  Mrs.  A.  If  I  did,  we  should  cause  a 
general  immigration  of  the  domestics  of  the  country  to  New 
Castle.  We  will  not  precipitate  such  a  disaster.” 

The  insertion  of  a  less  extended  advertisement,  couched 
in  the  usual  terms,  secured  a  reply  from  a  young  'woman 
named  Catherine.  And  when  Catherine’s  objections  to  the 
size  of  the  family,  to  the  style  of  the  cooking-range,  to  the 


42 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


dimensions  of  the  weekly  wash  and  to  sundry  other  things 
had  been  overcome,  she  consented  to  accept  the  position. 

“  I  hope  she  will  suit,”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Adeler,  with  a  sigh 
and  an  intonation  which  implied  doubt.  “  I  do  hope  she  will 
answer,  but  I  am  afraid  she  won’t,  for  according  to  her  own 
confession  she  doesn’t  know  how  to  make  bread  or  to  iron 
shirts  or  to  do  anything.” 

“That  is  the  reason  why  she  demanded  such  exorbitant 
wages.  Those  servants  who  are  entirely  ignorant  always 
want  the  largest  pay.  If  we  ever  obtain  a  girl  who  under¬ 
stands  her  business  in  all  its  departments,  I  cherish  the  con¬ 
viction  that  she  will  work  for  us  for  nothing.  The  wages  of 
domestics  are  usually  in  inverse  ratio  to  the  merit  of  the 
recipients.  Did  you  ever  reflect  upon  the  difference  between 
the  real  and  the  ideal  Irish  maiden  ?” 

Mrs.  A.  admitted  that  she  had  not  considered  the  subject 
with  any  degree  of  attention. 

“  The  ideal  peasant-girl  lives  only  in  fiction  and  upon  the 
stage.  We  are  largely  indebted  to  Mr.  Boucicault  for  her 

existence,  just  as  we  are  under  obli¬ 
gations  to  Mr.  Fennimore  Cooper  for 
a  purely  sentimental  conception  of 
the  North  American  Indian.  Have 
you  ever  seen  the  Colleen  Bawn?” 

“What  is  that?”  inquired  Mrs. 
Adeler,  as  she  bit  off  a  piece  of 
thread  from  a  spool. 

“  It  is  a  play,  a  drama,  my  dear, 
by  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault.” 

“You  know  I  never  go  to  theatres.” 
“  W ell,  in  that  and  in  many  other  of 
his  dramas  Mr.  Boucicault  has  drawn 
a  particularly  affecting  portrait  of 
the  imaginary  peasant-girl  of  Ireland.  She  is,  as  depicted  by 


THE  ACTUAL  PEASANT- GIRL. 


43 


him,  a  lovely  young  creature,  filled  with  tenderest  sensibility, 
animated  by  loftiest  impulses  and  inspired  perpetually  by 
poetic  enthusiasm.  The  conversation  of  this  fascinating 
being  sparkles  with  wit ;  she  overflows  with  generosity ;  she 
has  unutterable  longings  for  a  higher  and  nobler  life ;  she 
loves  with  intense  and  overpowering  passion ;  she  is  capable 
of  supreme  self-sacrifice ;  and  she  always  wears  clean  cloth¬ 
ing.  If  such  charming  girls  really  existed  in  Ireland  in 
large  numbers,  it  would  be  the  most  attractive  spot  in  the 
world.  It  wTould  be  a  particularly  profitable  place  for  young 
bachelors  to  emigrate  to.  I  think  I  should  even  go  there 
myself.” 

Mrs.  Adeler  said  she  would  certainly  accompany  me  if  I 
did. 

“But  these  persons  have  no  actual  existence.  We  know, 
from  a  painful  experience,  what  the  peasant-girl  of  real  life 
is,  do  we  not?  We  know  that  her  appearance  is  not  pre¬ 
possessing  ;  we  are  aware  that  her  lofty  impulses  do  not  lift 
her  high  enough  to  enable  her  to  avoid  impertinence  and  to 
conquer  her  unnatural  fondness  for  cooking  wine.  She  will 
withhold  starch  from  the  shirt  collars  and  put  it  in  the 
underclothing ;  she  will  hold  the  baby  by  the  leg,  so  that  it 
is  in  perpetual  peril  of  apoplexy,  and  she  will  drink  the 
milk.  All  of  her  visitors  are  her  cousins ;  and  when  they 
have  spent  a  festive  evening  with  her  in  the  kitchen,  is  it  not 
curious  to  remark  with  what  certainty  we  find  low  tide  in  the 
sugar-box  and  an  absence  of  symmetry  about 
the  cold  beef?  The  only  evidence  that  I  can 
discover  of  the  existence  in  her  soul  of  a 
yearning  for  a  higher  life  is  that  she  nearly 
always  wants  Brussels  carpet  in  the  kitchen,  and  this  long¬ 
ing  is  peculiarly  intense  if,  wThen  at  the  home  of  her  child¬ 
hood,  she  was  accustomed  to  live  in  a  mud-cabin  and  t©  sleep 
with  a  pig.” 

4  * 


44 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


But  I  do  not  regret  that  Mr.  Boucicault  has  not  placed 
this  person  upon  the  stage.  It  is,  indeed,  a  matter  for  re¬ 
joicing  that  she  is  not  there.  She  plays  such  a  part  in  the 
drama  of  domestic  life  that  in  contemplation  of  the  virtues 
of  the  fabulous  being  we  find  intense  relief. 


THE  VIEW  DOWN  THE  RIVER. 


Tb*  Ifbftrj 

»!  th» 

ltr*v*r*ity  rsf  I 

'  I  vJ 


. 


I 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  View  Upon  the  River  ;  a  Magnificent  Panorama — 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cooley — Matrimonial  Infelicities — The 
Case  of  Mrs.  Sawyer;  a  Blighted  Life— A  Present: 
our  Century  Plant  and  its  Peculiarities. 

C  have  a  full  view  of  the 
river  from  our  chamber 
window,  and  it  is  a  mag¬ 
nificent  spectacle  that 
greets  us  as  we  rise  in 
the  morning  and  fling 
the  shutters  wide  open. 
The  sun,  in  this  early 
summer  -  time,  has  al¬ 
ready  crept  high  above 
the  horizon  of  the  pine- 
covered  shore  opposite,  and  has  flooded  the  unruffled  waters 
with  its  golden  light  until  they  are  transformed  for  us  into 
a  sea  of  flame.  There  comes  a  fleet  of  grimy  coal  schooners 
moving  upward  with  the  tide,  their  dingy  sails  hanging 
almost  listless  in  the  air ;  now  they  float,  one  by  one,  into 
the  yellow  glory  of  the  sunshine  which  bars  the  river  from 
shore  to  shore.  Yonder  is  a  tiny  tug  puffing  valorously  as  it 
tows  the  great  merchantman — home  from  what  distant  land 
of  wonders  ? — up  to  the  wharves  of  the  great  city.  And 
look !  there  is  another  tug-boat  going  down  stream,  with  a 
score  of  canal-boats  moving  in  huge  mass  slowly  behind  it. 
They  come  from  far  up  among  the  mountains  of  the  Lehigh 

47 


48 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


and  the  Schuylkill  with  their  burdens  of  coal,  and  they  are 
bound  for  the  Chesapeake.  Those  men  lounging  lazily  about 
upon  the  decks  while  the  women  are  getting  breakfast  ready 
spend  their  lives  amid  some  of  the  wildest  and  noblest  scenery 
in  the  world.  I  would  rather  be  a  canal-boat  captain,  Mrs. 
Adeler,  and  through  all  my  existence  float  calmly  and  se¬ 
renely  amid  those  regions  of  beauty  and  delight,  without  ever 
knowing  what  hurry  is,  than  to  be  the  greatest  and  busiest 
of  statesmen — that  is,  if  one  calling  were  as  respectable  and 
lucrative  as  the  other. 

That  fellow  upon  the  boat  at  the  rear  is  playing  upon  his 
bugle.  The  canal-boat  bugler  is  not  an  artist,  but  he  makes 

wonderful  music  sometimes  when 
he  blows  a  blast  up  yonder  in  the 
heart  of  Pennsylvania^  and  sets 
the  wild  echoes  flying  among  the 
canons  of  those  mighty  hills.  And 
even  now  it  is  not  indifferent. 
Listen!  The  tones  come  to  us 
mellowed  by  the  distance,  and  so 
indistinct  that  they  have  lost  all 
but  the  sweetness  which  makes  them  seem  so  like  the  sound 
of 

“  Horns  of  Elfland,  faintly  blowing.” 


That  prosaic  tooter  floating  there  upon  the  river  doubtless 
would  be  surprised  to  learn  that  he  is  capable  of  such  a  sug¬ 
gestion  ;  but  he  is. 

Off  there  in  the  distance,  emerging  from  the  shadowy 
mantle  of  mist  that  rests  still  upon  the  bosom  of  the  stream 
to  the  south,  comes  the  steamboat  from  Salem,  with  its  decks 
loaded  down  with  rosy  and  fragrant  peaches,  and  with  baskets 
of  tomatoes  and  apples  and  potatoes  and  berries,  ready  for 
the  hungry  thousands  of  the  Quaker  City.  The  schooner 


THE  RIVER— MR.  COOLEY  AND  HIS  DOO.  49 


lying  there  at  the  wharf  is  getting  ready  to  move  away,  so 
that  the  steamer  may  come  in.  You  can  hear  the  screech 
made  by  the  block  as  the  tackle  of  the  sail  is  drawn  swiftly 
through  it.  Now  she  swings  out  into  the  stream,  and  there, 
right  athwart  her  bows,  see  that  fisherman  rowing  homeward 
with  his  net  piled  high  in  tangled  meshes  in  the  bow  of  his 
boat.  He  has  a  hundred  or  two  silver-scaled  shiners  at  his 
feet,  I’ll  warrant  you,  and  he  is  thinking  rather  of  the  price 
they  will  bring  than  of  the  fact  that  his  appearance  in  his 
rough  batteau  gives  an  especially  picturesque  air  to  the 
beauty  of  that  matchless  scene.  I  wish  I  was  a  painter.  I 
would  pay  any  price  if  I  could  fling  upon  canvas  that  back¬ 
ground  of  hazy  gray,  and  place  against  it  the  fiery  splendor 
of  the  sunlit  river,  with  steamer  and  ship  and  weather¬ 
beaten  sloop  and  fishing-boat  drifting  to  and  fro  upon  the 
golden  tide. 

There,  too,  is  old  Cooley,  our  next-door  neighbor  on  the 
east.  He  is  out  early  this  morning,  walking  about  his  gar¬ 
den,  pulling  up  a  weed  here  and  there,  prowling  among  his 
strawberry  vines  and  investigating  the  condition  of  his  early 
raspberries.  That  dog  which  trots  behind  him, 
my  dear,  is  the  one  that  barked  all  night.  I 
shall  have  to  ask  Cooley  to  take  him  in  the 
house  after  this.  We  had  enough  of  that 
kind  of  disturbance  in  the  city;  we  do  not 
want  it  here. 

“  I  don’t  like  the  Cooleys,”  remarked  Mrs.  A. 

“  Why  not  ?” 

“  Because  they  quarrel  with  each  other.  Their  girl  told 
our  girl  that  *  him  and  her  don’t  hit  it,’  and  that  Mr.  Cooley 
is  continually  having  angry  disputes  with  his  wife.  She 
says  that  sometimes  they  even  come  to  blows.  It  is 
dreadful.” 

“It  is  indeed  dreadful.  Somebody  ought  to  speak  to 


50 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Cooley  about  it.  He  needs  overhauling.  Perhaps  he  is  too 
ignorant  a  man  to  have  perceived  the  true  road  to  happiness. 
Of  course,  Mrs.  A.,  you  know  the  secret  of  real  happiness  in 
married  life  ?” 

She  said  she  had  never  thought  much  about  it.  She  was 
happy,  and  it  seemed  natural  to  be  so.  She  thought  it  very 
strange  that  there  should  ever  be  any  other  condition  of 
things  between  man  and  wife. 

“  Mrs.  Adeler,  the  secret  of  conjugal  felicity  is  contained 
in  this  formula:  demonstrative  affection  and  self-sacrifice. 
A  man  should  not  only  love  his  wife  dearly,  but  he  should 
tell  her  he  loves  her,  and  tell  her  very  often.  And  each 
should  be  willing  to  yield,  not  once  or  twice,  but  constantly 
and  as  a  practice,  to  the  other.  The  man  who  never  takes 
the  baby  from  his  wife,  who  never  offers  to  help  her  in  her 
domestic  duties,  who  will  sit  idly  by,  indulging  himself  with 
repose  while  she  is  overwhelmed  with  care  and  work  among 
the  children,  or  with  other  matters,  is  a  mean  wretch  who 
does  not  deserve  to  have  a  happy  home.  And  a  wife  who 
never  holds  up  her  husband’s  hands  in  his  struggle  with  the 
world,  who  displays  no  interest  in  his  perplexities  and  trials, 
who  has  never  a  word  of  cheer  for  him  when  he  staggers 
under  his  heavy  burden,  is  not  worthy  the  name  of  a  wife. 
Selfishness,  my  dear,  crushes  out  love,  and  most  of  the 
couples  who  are  living  without  affection  for  each  other,  with 
cold  and  dead  hearts,  with  ashes  where  there  should  be  a 
bright  and  holy  flame,  have  destroyed  themselves  by  caring 
too  much  for  themselves  and  too  little  for  each  other.” 

“  To  me,”  said  Mrs.  Adeler,  “  the  saddest  thing  about  such 
coldness  and  indifference  is  that  both  the  man  and  the 
woman  must  sometimes  think  of  the  years  when  they  loved 
each  other.” 

“Yes,  and  can  you  imagine  anything  that  would  be  more 
likely  to  give  a  woman  the  heartache  than  such  a  reool- 


MR.  SAWYER’S  CASE. 


51 


lection?  When  her  husband  comes  home  and  enters  the 
house  without  a  smile  or  a  word  of  welcome;  when  he 
growls  at  his  meals,  and  finds  fault  with  this  and  that 
domestic  arrangement ;  when  he  buries  his  nose  in  his  news¬ 
paper  after  supper,  and  never  resurrects  it  excepting  when 
he  has  a  savage  word  of  reproof  for  one  of  his  children,  or 
when  he  goes  out  again  to  spend  the  evening  and  leaves  his 
wife  alone,  the  picture  which  she  brings  up  from  the  past 
cannot  be  a  very  pleasant  one. 

“  Indeed,  my  dear,  the  man’s  present  conduct  must  fill  the 
woman’s  soul  with  bitter  pain  when  she  contrasts  it  with  that 
which  won  her  affection.  For  there  must  have  been  a  time 
when  she  looked  forward  with  joy  to  his  coming,  when  he 
caressed  her  and  covered  her  with  endearments,  when  he 
looked  deep  into  her  eyes  and  said  that  he  loved  her,  and 
when  he  said  that  he  could  have  no  happiness  in  this  world 
unless  she  loved  him  wholly  and  truly.  When  a  man  makes 
such  a  declaration  as  that  to  a  woman,  he  is  a  villain  if  he 
ever  treats  her  with  anything  but  loving-kindness.  And  I 
take  the  liberty  of  doubting  whether  he  who  leads  a  young 
girl  into  wedlock  with  such  pledges,  and  then  acts  in  direct 
violation  of  them,  ought  not  to  be  prosecuted  for  obtaining 
valuable  consideration  upon  false  pretences.  It  is  infinitely 
worse,  in  my  opinion,  than  stealing  ordinary  property.” 

Mrs.  Adeler  expressed  the  opinion  that  death  at  the  stake 
might  be  regarded  as  an  appropriate  punishment  for  crimi¬ 
nals  of  this  class. 

“  But  there  is  a  humorous  side  even  to  this  melancholy 
business.  Do  you  remember  the  Sawyers,  who  used  to  live 
near  us  in  the  city?  Well,  before  Sawyer’s  marriage  I  was 
his  most  intimate  friend ;  and  when  they  returned  from  their 
wedding-trip,  of  course  I  called  upon  them.  Mrs.  Sawyer 
alone  was  at  home,  and  after  a  brief  discussion  of  the 
weather,  the  conversation  turned  upon  Sawyer.  I  had 


52 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


4 


known  him  for  many  years,  and  I  took  pleasure  in  making 
Mrs.  Sawyer  believe  that  he  had  as  much  virtue  as  an  omni¬ 
bus  load  of  patriarchs.  Mrs.  Sawyer  assented  joyously  to 
it  all,  but  I  thought  I  detected  a  shade  of  sadness  on  her 
face  while  she  spoke.  I  asked  her  if  anything  was  the 
matter — if  Sawyer’s  health  was  not  good. 

“  ‘  Oh  yes,’  she  said,  ‘  very  good  indeed,  and  I  love  him 
dearly.  He  is  the  best  man  in  the  world ;  but — but — ’ 

“  Then  I  assured  Mrs.  Sawyer  that  she  might  speak  frankly 
to  me,  as  I  was  Sawyer’s  friend,  and  could  probably  smooth 
away  any  little  unpleasantness  that  might  mar  their  happi¬ 
ness.  She  then  said  it  was  nothing.  It  might  seem  foolish 
to  speak  of  it ;  she  knew  it  was  not  her  dear  husband’s  fault, 
and  she  ought  not  to  complain ;  but  it  was  hard,  hard  to 
submit  when  she  reflected  that  there  was  but  one  thing  to 
prevent  her  being  perfectly  happy ;  yes,  but  one  thing,  ‘  for 
oh,  Mr.  Adeler,  I  would  ask  for  nothing  more  in  this  world 

if  Ezekiel  only  had  a  Roman 
nose !’ 

“It  is  an  awful  thing,  Mrs. 
Adeler,  to  think  of  two  young 
lives  being  made  miserable  for 
want  of  one  Roman  nose,  isn’t 
it?” 

Mrs.  A.  gently  intimated  that 
she  entertained  a  suspicion  that 
I  had  made  up  the  story;  and 
if  I  had  not,  why,  then  Mrs.  Sawyer  certainly  was  a  very 
foolish  woman. 

My  wife’s  cousin,  Bob  Parker,  came  down  a  fortnight  ago 
to  stay  a  day  or  two  on  his  way  to  Cape  May,  with  the 
intent  to  tarry  at  that  watering-place  for  a  week  or  ten  days, 
and  then  to  return  here  to  remain  with  us  for  some  time. 
Bob  is  a  bright  youth,  witty  in  his  own  small  way,  fond  of 


OUR  CENTURY  PLANT. 


53 


using  his  tongue,  and  always  overflowing  with  animal  spirits. 
He  came  partly  to  see  us,  but  chiefly,  I  think,  because  he 
cherishes  a  secret  passion  for  a  certain  fair  maid  who  abides 
here. 

He  brought  me  a  splendid  present  in  the  shape  of  an 
American  agave,  or  century  plant.  It  was  offered  to  him  in 
Philadelphia  by  a  man  who  brought  it  to  the  store  and 
wanted  to  sell  it.  The  man  said  it  had  belonged  to  his 


grandfather,  and  he  consented  to  part  with  it  only  because 
he  was  in  extreme  poverty.  The  man  informed  Bob  that 
the  plant  grew  but  half  an  inch  in  twenty  years,  and 
blossomed  but  once  in  a  century.  The  last  time  it  bloomed, 
according  to  the  information  obtained  from  the  gray-haired 
grandsire  of  the  man,  was  in  1776,  and  it  would  therefore 
certainly  burst  out  again  in  1876.  Patriotism  and  a  desire 
to  have  such  a  curiosity  in  the  family  combined  to  induce 
Mr.  Parker  to  purchase  it  at  the  price  of  fifty  dollars. 

I  planted  the  phenomenon  on  the  south  side  of  the  house. 

5 


54 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


against  the  wall.  Two  days  afterward  I  called  Bob’s  atten¬ 
tion  to  the  circumstance  that  the  agave  had  grown  nearly 
three  feet  since  it  was  placed  in  the  ground.  This  seemed 
somewhat  strange  after  what  the  man  said  about  the  growth 
of  half  an  inch  in  two  decades.  But  we  concluded  that  the 
surprising  development  must  be  due  to  the  extraordinary 
fertility  of  the  soil,  and  Bob  exulted  as  he  thought  how  he 
had  beaten  the  man  by  getting  a  century  plant  so  much 
larger  and  so  much  more  valuable  than  he  had  supposed. 
Bob  said  that  the  man  would  be  wofully  mad  if  he  should 
call  and  see  that  century  plant  of  his  grandfather’s  getting 
up  out  of  the  ground  so  splendidly. 

That  afternoon  we  all  went  down  to  Cape  May,  and  for 
two  weeks  we  remained  there.  Upon  our  return,  Bob  re¬ 
marked,  as  we  stepped  from  the  boat,  that  he  wanted  to  go 
around  the  first  thing  and  see  how  the  plant  was  coming  on. 
He  suggested  gloomily  that  he  should  be  bitterly  disappointed 
if  it  had  perished  from  neglect  during  our  absence. 


But  it  was  not  dead.  We  saw  it  as  soon  as  we  came  near 
the  house.  It  had  grown  since  our  departure.  It  had  a 
trunk  as  thick  as  my  leg,  and  the  branches  ran  completely 
over  three  sides  of  the  house;  over  the  window  shutters, 


A  VIGOROUS  VEGETABLE  FOR  SALE.  55 


which  were  closed  so  tightly  that  we  had  to  chop  the  century 
plant  away  with  a  hatchet ;  over  the  roof,  down  the  chim¬ 
neys,  which  were  so  filled  with  foliage  that  they  wouldn’t 
draw ;  and  over  the  grapevine  arbor,  in  such  a  fashion  that 
we  had  to  cut  away  vines  and  all  to  get  rid  of  the  intruder. 

The  roots,  also,  had  thrown  out  shoots  over  every  avail¬ 
able  square  foot  of  the  yard,  so  that  I  had  eight  or  ten  thou¬ 
sand  century  plants  in  an  exceedingly  thriving  condition, 
while  a  branch  had  grown  through  the  open  cellar  window, 
and  was  getting  along  so  finely  that  we  could  only  reach  the 
coal-bin  by  tramping  through  a  kind  of  an  East  Indian 
jungle. 

Mr.  Parker,  after  examining  the  vegetable  carefully,  ob¬ 
served  : 

“  I’m  kind  of  sorry  I  bought  that  century  plant,  Max.  I 
have  half  an  idea  that  the  man  who  sold  it  to  me  was  a 
humorist,  and  that  his  Revolutionary  grandfather  was  an 
octogenarian  fraud.” 

If  anybody  wants  a  good,  strong,  healthy  century  plant 
that  will  stand  any  climate,  and  that  is  warranted  to  bloom 
in  1876,  mine  can  be  had  for  a  very  reasonable  price.  This 
may  be  regarded  as  an  unparalleled  opportunity  for  any 
young  agriculturist  who  does  not  want  to  wait  long  for  hia 
vegetables  to  grow. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Judge  Pitman — His  Experiment  in  the  Barn — A  Lesson  in 
Natural  History — Catching  the  Early  Train — One  of 
the  Miseries  of  Living  in  a  Village  —  Ball’s  Lung 
Exercise — Mr.  Cooley’s  Impertinence. 

f  next-door  neighbor  upon  the  west 
is  Judge  Pitman.  I  heard  his  name 
mentioned  before  I  became  acquaint¬ 
ed  with  him,  and  I  fancied  that  he 
was  either  a  present  occupant  of  the 
bench,  or  else  that  he  had  gone  into 
retirement  after  spending  his  active 
life  in  dispensing  justice  and  unravel¬ 
ing  the  tangles  of  the  law.  But  it 
appears  that  he  has  never  occupied 
a  judicial  position,  and  that  his  title 
is  purely  complimentary,  having  no 
relation  whatever  to  the  uature  of 
his  pursuits  either  in  the  past  or  in  the  present.  The  judge, 
indeed,  is  merely  the  owner  of  a  couple  of  steam-tugs  and 
one  or  two  wood  sloops  which  ply  upon  the 
river  and  upon  Chesapeake  Bay.  He  spends 
most  of  his  time  at  home,  living  comfortably 
upon  the  receipts  of  a  business  which  is  con¬ 
ducted  by  his  hired  men,  and  perhaps  also 
upon  the  interest  of  a  few  good  investments  in  this  and 
other  places. 

A  very  brief  acquaintance  with  the  judge  suffices  to  con¬ 
vince  any  one  that  he  has  never  presided  in  court.  He  is  a 
rough,  uneducated  man,  with  small  respect  for  grammar,  an 
56 


JUDGE  PITMAN. 


57 


irrepressible  tendency  to  distort  the  language,  and  very 
little  information  concerning  subjects  which  are  not  made 
familiar  by  the  occurrences  of  every-day  life.  But  he  is 
hearty,  genial,  sincere  and  honest,  and  I  very  soon  learned 
to  like  him  and  to  find  amusement  in  his  quaint  simplicity. 

My  first  interview  with  the  judge  was  somewhat  remark¬ 
able.  I  came  home  early  one  afternoon  for  the  purpose  of 
training  some  roses  and  clematis  against  my  fence.  While  I 
was  busily  engaged  with  the  work,  the  judge,  who  had  been 


digging  potatoes  in  his  garden,  stuck  his  spade  in  the  earth 
and  came  to  the  fence.  After  looking  at  me  in  silence  for  a 
few  moments,  he  observed, 

“  Fine  day,  cap !” 

The  judge  has  the  habit  of  conferring  titles  promiscuously 
and  without  provocation,  particularly  upon  strangers.  To 
call  me  “cap.”  was  his  method  of  expressing  a  desire  for 
sociability. 

“  It  is  a  beautiful  day,”  I  observed,  “but  the  country 
needs  rain.” 


58 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  It  never  makes  no  difference  to  me,”  replied  the  judge, 
“  what  kinder  weather  there  is ;  I’m  alters  satisfied.  ’Twon’t 
rain  no  sooner  for  wishin’  for  it.” 

As  there  was  no  possibility  of  our  having  a  controversy 
upon  this  point,  I  merely  replied,  “  That  is  true.” 

“How’s  yer  pertaters  cornin’  on?”  inquired  the  judge. 

“Very  well,  I  believe.  They’re  a  little  late,  but  they 
appear  to  be  thriving.” 

“  Mine’s  doin’  first  rate,”  returned  the  judge.  “  I  guan- 
nered  them  in  the  spring,  and  I’ve  bin  a-hoein’  at  ’em  and 
keepin’  the  weeds  down  putty  stiddy  ever  since.  Mons’ous 
sight  o’  labor  growin’  good  pertaters,  cap.” 

“  I  should  think  so,”  I  rejoined,  “  although  I  haven’t  had 
much  practical  experience  in  that  direction  thus  far.” 

“  Cap.,”  observed  the  judge,  after  a  brief  interval  of  silence, 
“  you’re  one  of  them  fellers  that  writes  for  the  papers  and 
magazines,  a’n’t  you  ?” 

“Yes,  I  sometimes  do  work  of  that  kind.” 

“Well,  see  here:  I’ve  got  somethin’  on  my  mind  that’s 
bin  a-botherin’  me  the  wust  kind  for  a  week  and  more. 
You’ve  read  the  ‘Atlantic  Monthly,’  haven’t  you?” 

“  Yes.” 

“Well,  my  daughter  bought  one  of  ’em,  and  I  was  a- 
readin’  it  the  other  night,  when  I  saw  it  stated  that  guanner 
could  be  influenced  by  music,  and  that  Professor  Brown  had 
made  some  git  up  and  come  to  him  when  he  played  a  tune 
on  the  pianner.” 

I  remembered,  as  the  judge  spoke,  that  the  magazine  in 
question  did  contain  a  paragraph  to  the  effect  that  the 
iguana  was  susceptible  of  such  influence,  and  that  Mrs. 
Brown  had  succeeded  in  taming  one  of  these  animals,  so  that 
it  would  run  to  her  at  the  sound  of  music.  But  I  permitted 
Mr.  Pitman  to  continue  without  interruption. 

“  Of  course,”  said  he,  “  I  never  really  believed  no  such 


THE  JUDGE’S  MUSICAL  FEAT. 


59 


nonsense  as  that,  but  it  struck  me  as  kinder  sing’lar,  and 
I  thought  I’d  give  the  old  thing  a  trial,  anyhow.  So  I  got 
down  my  fiddle  and  went  to  the  barn,  and  put  a  bag  of 
guanner  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  begun  to  rake  out  a 
tune.  First  I  played  ‘  A  Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave  and  a 
Home  on  the  Rollin’  Deep  ’  three  or  four  times  ;  and  there 
that  guanner  sot,  just  as  I  expected  ’twould.  Then  I  begun 
agin  and  sawed  out  a  lot  o’  variations,  but  still  she  didn’t 
budge.  Then  I  put  on  a  fresh  spurt  and  jammed  in  a  pas- 
sel  o’  extra  sharps  and  flats  and  exercises ;  and  I  played 
that  tune  backward  and  sideways  and  cat-a-cornered.  And 


I  stirred  in  some  scales,  and  mixed  the  tune  up  with  Old 
Hundred  and  Mary  Blaine  and  some  Sunday-school  songs, 
until  I  nearly  fiddled  my  shirt  off,  and  nary  time  did  that 
guanner  bag  git  up  off  o’  that  floor.  I  knowed  it  wouldn’t. . 
I  knowed  that  feller  wa’n’t  tellin’  the  truth.  But,  cap.,  don’t 
it  strike  you  that  a  man  who’d  lie  like  that  ought  to  have 


60 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


somethin’  done  to  him  ?  It  ’pears  to  me ’s  if  a  month  or  two 
in  jail ’d  do  that  feller  good.” 

The  lesson  in  natural  history  which  I  proceeded  to  give  to 
the  judge  need  not  be  repeated  here.  He  acknowledged 
that  the  laugh  was  fairly  against  him,  and  ended  his  affir¬ 
mation  of  his  new-born  faith  in  the  integrity  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly  by  inviting  me  to  climb  over  the  fence  and  taste 
some  of  his  Bartlett  pears.  The  judge  and  I  have  been 
steady  friends  ever  since. 

I  find  that  one  of  the  most  serious  objections  to  living  out 
of  town  lies  in  the  difficulty  experienced  in  catching  the 
early  morning  train  by  which  I  must  reach  the  city  and  my 
business.  It  is  by  no  means  a  pleasant  matter,  under  any 
circumstances,  to  have  one’s  movements  regulated  by  a  time¬ 
table  and  to  be  obliged  to  rise  to  breakfast  and  to  leave 
home  at  a  certain  hour,  no  matter  how  strong  the  tempta¬ 
tion  to  delay  may  be.  But  sometimes  the  horrible  punctu¬ 
ality  of  the  train  is  productive  of  absolute  suffering.  For 
instance :  I  look  at  my  watch  when  I  get  out  of  bed  and  find 
that  I  have  apparently  plenty  of  time,  so  I  dress  leisurely, 
and  sit  down  to  the  morning  meal  in  a  frame  of  mind  which 
is  calm  and  serene.  Just  as  I  crack  my  first  egg  I  hear  the 
down  train  from  Wilmington.  I  start  in  alarm ;  and  taking 
out  my  watch,  I  compare  it  with  the  clock  and  find  that  it  is 
eleven  minutes  slow,  and  that  I  have  only  five  minutes  left 
in  which  to  get  to  the  depot. 

I  endeavor  to  scoop  the  egg  from  the  shell, 
but  it  burns  my  fingers,  the  skin  is  tough,  and 
after  struggling  with  it  for  a  moment,  it  mashes 
into  a  hopeless  mess.  I  drop  it  in  disgust  and 
seize  a  roll,  while  I  scald  my  tongue  with  a 
quick  mouthful  of  coffee.  Then  I  place  the  roll  in  my 
mouth  while  my  wife  hands  me  my  satchel  and  tells  me 
she  thinks  she  hears  the  whistle.  I  plunge  madly  around 


CATCHING  THE  TBAIN. 


61 


looking  for  my  umbrella,  then  I  kiss  the  family  good-bye  as 
well  as  I  can  with  a  mouth  full  of  roll,  and  dash  toward  the 
door. 

Just  as  I  get  to  the  gate,  I  find  that  I  have  forgotten  my 
duster  and  the  bundle  my  wife  wanted  me  to  take  up  to  the 
city  to  her  aunt.  Charging  back,  I  snatch  them  up  and  tear 
down  the  gravel-walk  in  a  frenzy.  I  do  not  like  to  run 
through  the  village :  it  is  undignified  and  it  attracts  atten¬ 
tion  ;  but  I  walk  furiously.  I  go  faster  and  faster  as  I  get 
away  from  the  main  street.  When  half  the  distance  is  ac¬ 
complished,  I  actually  do  hear  the  whistle; 
there  can  be  no  doubt  about  it  this  time.  I 
long  to  run,  but  I  know  that  if  I  do  I  will  ex¬ 
cite  that  abominable  speckled  dog  sitting  by 
the  sidewalk  a  little  distance  ahead  of  me. 

Then  I  really  see  the  train  coming  around  the  curve  close 


hy  the  depot,  and  I  feel  that  I  must  make  better  time ;  and 
I  do.  The  dog  immediately  manifests  an  interest  in  my 


62 


OUT  OF  TIIE  HURLY-BURLY . 


movements.  He  tears  after  me,  and  is  speedily  joined  by 
five  or  six  other  dogs,  which  frolic  about  my  legs  and  bark 
furiously.  Sundry  small  boys,  as  I  go  plunging  past,  con¬ 
tribute  to  the  excitement  by  whistling  with  their  fingers,  and 
the  men  who  are  at  work  upon  the  new  meeting-house  stop 
to  look  at  me  and  exchange  jocular  remarks  with  each  other. 
I  do  feel  ridiculous;  but  I  must  catch  that  train  at  all 
hazards. 

I  become  desperate  when  I  have  to  slacken  my  pace  until 
two  or  three  women  who  are  standing  upon  the  sidewalk, 
discussing  the  infamous  price  of  butter,  scatter  to  let  me 
pass.  I  arrive  within  a  few  yards  of  the  station  with  my 
duster  flying  in  the  wind,  with  my  coat  tails  in  a  horizontal 
position,  and  with  the  speckled  dog  nipping  my  heels,  just  as 
the  train  begins  to  move.  I  put  on  extra  pressure,  resolving 


to  get  the  train  or  perish,  and  I  reach  it  just  as  the  last 
car  is  going  by.  I  seize  the  hand-rail ;  I  am  jerked  violently 
around,  but  finally,  after  a  desperate  effort,  I  get  upon  the 


TROUBLE  WITH  COOLEY. 


63 


step  with  my  knees,  and  am  hauled  in  by  the  brakeman,  hot, 
dusty  and  mad,  with  my  trousers  torn  across  the  knees,  my 
legs  bruised  and  three  ribs  of  my  umbrella  broken. 

Just  as  I  reach  a  comfortable  seat  in  the  car,  the  train 
stops,  and  then  backs  up  on  the  siding,  where  it  remains  for 
half  an  hour  while  the  engineer  repairs  a  dislocated  valve. 
The  anger  which  burns  in  my  bosom  as  I  reflect  upon  what 
now  is  proved  to  have  been  the  folly  of  that  race  is  increased 
as  I  look  out  of  the  window  and  observe  the  speckled  dog 
engaged  with  his  companions  in  an  altercation  over  a  bone. 
A  man  who  permits  his  dog  to  roam  about  the  streets  nipping 
the  legs  of  every  one  who  happens  to  go  at  a  more  rapid 
gait  than  a  walk,  is  unfit  for  association  with  civilized  beings. 
He  ought  to  be  placed  on  a  desert  island  in  mid-ocean,  and 
be  compelled  to  stay  there. 

This  will  do  as  a  picture  of  the  experience  of  one  morn¬ 
ing — one  melancholy  morning.  Of  course  it  is  exceptional. 
Rather  than  endure  such  agony  of  mind  and  discomfort  of 
body  frequently,  I  would  move  back  to  the  city,  and  abandon 
for  ever  my  little  paradise  by  the  Delaware. 

I  hardly  think  I  shall  get  along  so  well  with  my  neighbor 
on  the  other  side,  Cooley,  as  I  do  with  Pitman.  He  is  not  only 
exceedingly  ill-natured,  but  he  inclines  to  be  impertinent. 
Several  times  he  has  volunteered  advice  respecting  the  man¬ 
agement  of  my  garden  and  grounds,  and  has  displayed  a 
disposition  to  be  somewhat  sarcastic  when  his  plans  did  not 
meet  with  my  approval.  I  contrived,  however,  to  avoid  a 
breach  of  our  amicable  relations  until  the  other  day,  when 
his  conduct  became  absolutely  unendurable. 

I  observed  in  the  last  number  of  Ball’s  Journal  of  Health 
some  suggestions  concerning  a  good  method  of  exercising 
the  lungs  and  expanding  the  chest.  They  were  to  this 
effect : 

“  Step  out  into  the  purest  air  you  can  find ;  stand  perfectly  erect, 


64 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


with  the  head  up  and  the  shoulders  back,  and  then,  fixing  the  lips  as 
though  you  were  going  to  whistle,  draw  the  air,  not  through  the 
nostrils,  but  through  the  lips,  into  the  lungs.  When  the  chest  is 
about  half  full,  gradually  raise  the  arms,  keeping  them  extended  with 
the  palms  of  the  hands  down,  as  you  suck  in  the  air,  so  as  to  bring 
them  over  the  head  just  as  the  lungs  are  quite  full.  Then  drop 
the  thumbs  inward,  and  after  gently  forcing  the  arms  backward  and 
the  chest  open,  reverse  the  process  by  which  you  draw  your  breath 
till  the  lungs  are  empty.  This  process  should  be  repeated  three  or 
four  times  immediately  after  bathing,  and  also  several  times  through 
the  day.” 

This  seemed  reasonable,  and  I  determined  to  give  it  a 
trial.  For  that  purpose  I  went  out  into  the  yard ;  and 
pinning  the  directions  to  a  tree,  I  stood  in  front  of  them 

where  I  could  see  them. 
Just  as  I  began,  Cooley 
came  out;  and  perceiving 
me,  he  placed  his  elbows 
upon  the  fence,  rested  his 
chin  upon  his  arms  and 
watched  me  with  a  very 
peculiar  smile  upon  his  face. 
I  was  exceedingly  annoyed 
and  somewhat  embarrassed, 
but  I  was  determined  that 
he  should  not  have  the 
gratification  of  driving  me 
away  from  my  own  ground. 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  I 
would  continue  the  exercise 
without  appearing  to  notice  him.  In  a  few  moments,  how¬ 
ever,  he  remarked : 

“  Training  for  a  prize-fight,  Adeler  ?” 

I  made  no  reply,  but  continued  the  exercise.  When  I 
had  gone  through  the  programme  once,  I  began  again.  As 


IMPERTINENT  ADVICE. 


65 


I  arrived  at  that  portion  of  it  where  the  instructions  direct 
the  arrangement  of  the  lips,  Mr.  Cooley,  by  this  time  some¬ 
what  incensed  at  my  silence,  observed, 

“  Whistle  us  a  tune,  Adeler.  Give  us  something  lively !” 

As  I  paid  no  attention  to  this  invitation,  Cooley  embraced 
the  opportunity  afforded  by  the  upward  motion  of  my  arms, 
in  accordance  with  the  directions,  to  ask  me  if  I  was  going 
to  dive,  and  to  offer  to  bring  me  out  a  tub  in  case  I  cherished 
such  a  design. 

Then  I  completed  the  exercise  and  went  into  the  house 
without  giving  Cooley  any  reason  to  suppose  that  I  was 
aware  of  his  presence.  The  next  day  I  performed  the  cere¬ 
mony  at  the  same  place,  at  the  same  hour.  On  the  third 
day  Cooley  evidently  expected  me,  for  as  soon  as  I  appeared 
he  came  up  to  the  fence  and  assumed  his  old  position.  He 
had  with  him  a  couple  of  friends,  whom  he  must  have  sum¬ 
moned  for  the  express  purpose  of  tormenting  me.  When  I 
had  gone  through  the  movements  once,  Cooley  said : 

“  See  here,  Adeler,  I  don’t  want  to  do  you  any  harm,  but 
let  me  advise  you  as  a  friend  to  go  to  an  asylum.  I  have 
known  much  worse  cases  than  yours  to  be  cured.  It  isn’t 
kind  to  your  family  for  you  to  remain  at  large.  You’re 
afflicted  with  only  a  mild  form  now;  but  if  you  don’t  do 
something,  you’ll  have  a  violent  paroxysm  some  day,  and 
smash  things.  Now,  take  my  advice,  and  put  yourself  under 
treatment.” 

Silence  upon  my  part. 

“  How  would  you  take  it  now,”  inquired  Cooley,  in  a  tone 
indicative  of  yearning  tenderness,  “  if  I  should  get  over  the 
fence  and  chain  you  to  the  pump  while  I  go  for  the  doctor  ? 
I  really  think  you  are  getting  dangerous.” 

“  Mr.  Cooley,”  I  said,  “  I  wish  you  would  attend  to  your 
own  business.  I  do  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  you,  sir,  but  I 

will  not  have  any  interference  on  your  part  with  my  affairs. 

6 


66 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


If  it  will  make  you  any  happier  to  learn  what  I  am  doing,  I 
will  tell  you,  seeing  that  you  are  so  much  interested  in  the 
matter,  that  I  am  exercising,  under  medical  direction,  for  the 
benefit  of  my  lungs.” 

“  Exercising  for  the  benefit  of  his  lungs !”  moaned  Cooley. 
“  His  mind  is  entirely  gone.” 

“  Yes,  sir,”  I  said,  angrily,  “I  am  exercising  for  the  benefit 
of  my  lungs,  according  to  the  directions  of  Dr.  Ball,  and  I 
will  thank  you  to  keep  your  tongue  quiet  about  it.” 

“He  has  them  awfully  bad,”  exclaimed  Cooley,  with  a 


pathetic  look.  “  There  is  no  such  man  as  Dr.  Ball,  you 
know,”  he  remarked,  in  a  confidential  tone,  to  one  of  his 
companions. 

“  I  wish  you  distinctly  to  understand  that  I  will  not  toler¬ 
ate  this  impertinence  much  longer,  sir,”  I  exclaimed,  indig¬ 
nantly.  “  What  right  have  you  to  interfere  with  me  upon 
my  own  ground,  you  ruffian  ?” 

“  His  intellect’s  completely  shattered,”  said  Cooley,  with  a 
mournful  shake  of  his  head,  to  his  companions.  “  Poor  Mrs. 


I  GIVE  IT  UP. 


67 


Adeler !  It  will  be  a  terrible  blow  for  her  and  for  the 
children.  My  heart  bipeds  for  them.” 

“  Mr.  Cooley,”  I  said,  “  I  want  no  more  of  this.  I  shall 
discontinue  Dr.  Ball’s  exercise  at  this  place  for  the  present, 
but  I  will  tell  you  before  I  go  that  I  consider  you  an  inso¬ 
lent,  unendurable  idiot,  and  I  will  repay  you  some  day  or 
other  for  your  outrageous  behavior  to  me.” 

“  Sad,  sad,  indeed !”  said  Cooley  to  his  friends.  “  Strange 
how  he  clings  to  that  fancy  about  a  man  named  Ball,  isn’t 
it?” 

One  of  Cooley’s  companions  observed  that  the  deranged 
were  apt  to  get  such  notions  in  their  heads,  and  he  supple¬ 
mented  this  statement  with  the  remark,  “  This  is  a  very 
interesting  case — very.” 

Then  I  went  into  the  house,  and  from  the  window  saw 
Cooley  and  his  companions  walk  away  laughing.  Not  even 
the  unpardonable  insolence  of  Cooley  can  disguise  the  fact 
that  the  affair  has  a  certain  comic  aspect ;  and  when  I  be¬ 
came  calmer,  I  confess  that  I  appreciated  this  phase  of  the 
occurrence  with  some  keenness,  even  though  I  happened  to 
occupy  an  exceedingly  unpleasant  position  as  the  victim  of 
the  joke.  But  I  shall  be  even  with  Cooley  for  this.  I  will 
devise  a  scheme  for  tormenting  him  which  will  cause  him  to 
rue  the  day  that  he  interfered  with  my  pulmonary  gymnas¬ 
tics.  Dr.  Ball’s  recipe,  however,  I  think  I  will  toss  into  the 
fire.  I  will  expand  my  lungs  by  learning  to  sing  or  to  play 
upon  the  flute.  My  family  can  then  participate  in  my  en¬ 
joyment.  A  married  man  has  no  right  to  be  selfish  in  his 
pleasures. 


CHAPTER  V. 


A  Little  Love  Affair — Cowardice  of  Mr.  Parker — Popu¬ 
lar  Interest  in  Amatory  Matters — The  Magruder 
Family — An  Event  in  its  History — Remarkable  Ex¬ 
periments  by  Mrs.  Magruder — An  Indignant  Husband 
— A  Question  Answered. 


ISS  BESSIE  MAGRU¬ 
DER  is  the  object  upon 
which  the  affections  of  Mr. 
Bob  Parker  are  fixed  at  the 
present  moment.  He  met 
her,  I  believe,  while  she  was 
attending  school  in  the  city 
last  winter,  and  what  with 
accompanying  her  to  mati¬ 
nees,  taking  her  to  church 
and  lingering  by  her  side  in 
the  parlor  oftentimes  in  the 
evening  with  the  gas  turned 
low,  the  heart  of  Mr.  Parker 
gradually  was  induced  to 
throb  only  for  the  pretty 
maid  from  New  Castle.  She  has  been  very 
gracious  to  him  during  all  the  time  that  he 
has  devoted  himself  to  her,  and  has  seemed  to 
like  him  so  well  that  there  is  really  no  reason 
for  doubting  that  when  the  climax  of  the  little 
drama  is  reached  and  the  question  asked,  she  will  droop  her 
eyelids,  crimson  her  cheeks  with  blushes  and  whisper  “  Yes.” 


PARKER’S  CO  WARP  ICE. 


69 


But  Mr-  Parker’s  courage  has  not  been  quite  equal  to 
the  presentation  of  the  proposition  in  a  definite  form.  When 
I  asked  him  the  other  day,  good-humoredly,  if  he  had  ex¬ 
plained  himself  to  Miss  Magruder,  he  told  me  confiden¬ 
tially  that  he  had  not.  At  least 
a  dozen  times  he  had  prepared  the 
question  in  a  graceful  and  effect¬ 
ive  form,  and  after  committing 
it  to  memory  he  had  started  out 
with  a  valiant  determination  to 
declare  his  passion  in  that  pre¬ 
cise  language  the  very  moment 
he  should  encounter  Miss  Magruder. 

“The  words  seem  all  right  enough  when  I’m  not  with 
her,”  sighed  Bob.  “  The  very  way  I  wrote  ’em  out  appears 
to  express  exactly  what  I  want 
to  say,  and  as  I  go  along  the 
street  I  repeat  ’em  over  and 
think  to  myself:  ‘By  George, 

I’ll  do  it  now  or  die !’  But  as 
soon  as  I  see  her  it  seems  ridic¬ 
ulous  to  blurt  out  a  speech  like 
that  the  first  thing.  So  we  be¬ 
gin  to  talk  about  something 
else,  and  then  it  seems  ’s  if  I 
couldn’t  break  right  in  abruptly 
on  the  conversation.  Then  I 
get  to  wondering  how  she’d  feel  if  she  knew  what  I  was 
thinking  about.  Then  very  likely  somebody  comes  in,  and 
the  chance  is  gone  and  I  have  to  put  it  off.  It  worries  me 
nearly  to  death.  I’ll  go  down  there  some  day  soon  and 
plump  it  right  out  without  saying  another  word  first ;  I  will, 
by  George !” 

It  is  an  odd  circumstance  that  every  man  who  finds  him- 
6  * 


70 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


self  in  the  position  occupied  by  Mr.  Parker  should  entertain 
the  conviction  that  he  is  the  first  human  being  who  ever  suf¬ 
fered  such  embarrassment.  Bob,  my  dear  boy,  you  are  trav¬ 
eling  an  old,  a  very  old  road,  and  all  those  rough  and  stony 
places  whereupon  you  endure  distress,  and  where  your  timid 
feet  stumble,  have  been  passed  for  hundreds  of  centuries  by 
love-sick  wayfarers  who  were  as  eager,  as  unwise  and  as 
cowardly  as  you! 

It  is  very  curious  to  observe  how  quickly  the  partiality 
of  a  young  man  for  a  maid  is  perceived  by  their  acquaint¬ 
ances,  and  with  what  zest  the  gossiping  tongues  tell  the  tale. 
Women,  of  course,  display  deepest  interest  and  acutest  per¬ 
ception  in  such  matters.  A  movement  made  in  the  direction 
of  courtship  by  a  young  fellow  sends  a  strong  ripple  of  ex¬ 
citement  circling  over  the  surface  of  the  little  world  in  which 
they  live ;  and  there  is  something  wonderful  in  the  rapidity 
with  which  the  involved  questions  of  suitability,  social  stand¬ 
ing  and  financial  condition  are  considered  and  settled.  It  is 
soon  perceived  whether  the  business  is  a  serious  one  upon 
both  sides ;  and  as  the  two  chief  actors  proceed  slowly  to¬ 
ward  the  moment  when  their  hearts  shall  be  unfolded  to 
each  other,  sharp  eyes  are  watching  them,  and  though  they 
think  they  are  keeping  their  secret  very  fast  from  their 
friends,  every  step  of  their  progress  is  perceived,  and  the 
gentle  excitement  of  suspense  increases  and  intensifies  day 
by  day  among  the  watchers  until  it  culminates  in  the  formal 
announcement  that  they  are  engaged. 

So  they  remain  objects  of  general  and  tender  consideration 
until  that  other  grand  climax — the  wedding — is  at  last  at¬ 
tained  ;  and  the  bride,  with  her  orange  blossoms  and  her  veil, 
with  her  satin,  her  silver-ware  and  her  sweetness,  becomes 
the  central  figure  of  a  happy  festival  whose  gayety  is  tem¬ 
pered  by  the  solemn  thoughts  which  will  come  concerning 
that  great  unknown  future  whose  threshold  is  being  passed. 


A  MEDICAL  WOMAN. 


71 


And  then,  when  all  this  is  over,  when  the  lights  are  out,  the 
wedding  garments  folded  away,  the  practical  domestic  life 
begun  and  the  period  of  romance  passed,  the  interest  which 
followed  the  pair  from  the  first  blossom  of  their  love  expires, 
and,  as  far  as  sentiment  is  concerned,  their  day — a  time  full 
of  pleasant  things,  of  grateful  happiness  in  the  present  and 
joyful  expectation  for  the  future — is  done  for  ever.  Thence¬ 
forward  their  lives  will  be  but  prosy  and  dull  to  the  world, 
however  full  to  them  the  years  may  be  of  serenity  and 
peace. 

I  have  been  making  some  inquiries  concerning  the  Ma- 
gruder  family,  in  order  to  satisfy  my  wife  that  Bob’s  pros¬ 
pective  relations  are  “the  right  kind  of  people.”  The 
expression,  I  know,  is  vague ;  and  now  that  we  have  learned 
something  of  the  Magruders,  my  inability  to  determine  pre¬ 
cisely  what  qualifications  are  necessary  in  order  to  make 
people  of  the  right  kind  forbids  the  formation  of  a  definite 
opinion  upon  my  part  concerning  them.  But  Mrs.  Adeler 
will  decide ;  women  are  always  mistresses  of  such  subjects. 

Mr.  Magruder  is  apparently  a  man  of  leisure  and  of  com¬ 
parative  wealth ;  his  social  position  is  very  good,  and  he  has 
enough  intelligence  and  cultivation  to  enable  him  to  get 
along  comfortably  in  the  society  of  very  respectable  persons. 
Mrs.  Magruder,  it  seems,  is  rather  inclined  to  emphasize 
herself.  She  is  a  physician,  an  enthusiast  in  the  study  and 
practice  of  medical  science,  and  a  woman  of  such  force  that 
she  succeeds  in  keeping  Mr.  Magruder,  if  not  precisely  in  a 
state  of  repression,  at  least  slightly  in  the  background.  He 
married  her,  according  to  report,  shortly  after  her  gradua¬ 
tion  ;  and  as  he  was  at  that  time  an  earnest  advocate  of  the 
theory  that  women  should  practice  medicine,  a  belief  prevails 
that  he  became  attached  to  her  while  under  her  treatment. 
She  touched  his  heart,  we  may  presume,  by  exciting  activity 
in  his  liver.  He  loved  her,  let  us  say,  for  the  blisters  she 


72 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


had  spread,  and  demanded  her  hand  because  he  had  ob¬ 
served  the  singular  dexterity  with  which  it  cut  away  tumors 
and  tied  up  veins. 


But  if  what  Dr.  Tobias  Jones,  our  family  physician,  tellf 
me  is  true,  the  sentiments  of  Magruder  upon  the  subject  of 
medical  women  have  undergone  a  radical  change  in  conse¬ 
quence  of  an  exuberance  of  enthusiasm  on  the  part  of  Mrs. 
Magruder.  Dr.  Jones  entertains  the  regular  professional 
hatred  for  Mrs.  Dr.  Magruder,  and  so  I  have  my  private 
doubts  respecting  the  strict  accuracy  of  his  narrative. 

He  said  that  a  few  years  ago  the  Magruders  lived  in 

Philadelphia,  and  Mrs.  Magru¬ 
der  was  a  professor  in  the  Wo¬ 
man’s  Medical  College.  At 
that  time  Magruder  was  in  bus¬ 
iness  ;  and  as  he  generally  came 
home  tired,  he  had  a  habit  of 
lying  on  the  sitting-room  sofa 
in  the  evening,  for  the  purpose 
of  taking  a  nap.  Several  times 
when  he' did  so,  a  d  Mrs.  Magruder  had  some  friends  with 
her  down  stairs,  be  noticed  upon  awaking  that  there  was  a 


HORRIBLE  SUSPICIONS. 


73 


peculiar  feeling  of  heaviness  in  his  head  and  a  queer  smell 
of  drugs  in  the  room.  When  he  questioned  Mrs.  Magruder 
about  it,  she  invariably  colored  and  looked  confused,  and 
said  he  must  have  eaten  something  which  disagreed  with  him. 

Ultimately  the  suspicions  of  Magruder  were  aroused.  He 
suspected  something  wrong.  A  horrible  thought  crossed  his 
mind  that  Mrs.  Magruder  intended  to  poison  him  for  his 


skeleton — to  sacrifice  him  so  that  she  could  dangle  his  bones 
on  a  string  before  her  class,  and  explain  to  the  seekers  after 
medical  truth  the  peculiarities  of  construction  which  enabled 
the  framework  of  her  husband  to  move  around  in  society. 

So  Magruder  revealed  his  suspicions  to  his  brother,  and 
engaged  him  to  secrete  himself  in  a  closet  in  the  room  while 
he  took  his  usual  nap  on  a  certain  evening  upon  the  sofa. 


74 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


When  that  night  arrived,  Mrs.  Magruder  pretended  to 
have  the  “sewing  circle”  from  the  church  in  the  parlor, 
while  her  husband  went  to  sleep  in  the  sitting-room  with  that 
vigilant  relative  of  his  on  guard.  About  nine  o’clock  Mr. 
Magruder’s  brother  was  surprised  to  observe  Mrs.  Magruder 
softly  stealing  up  stairs,  with  the  members  of  the  “  sewing 
circle”  following  her  noiselessly  in  single 
file.  In  her  hand  Mrs.  Magruder  carried  a 
volume.  If  her  brother-in-law 
had  conceived  the  idea  that 
the  book  might  contain  the 
tender  strains  of  some  sweet  singer  amid  whose 
glowing  imagery  this  woman  reveled  with  the 
ecstasy  of  a  sensitive  nature,  he  would  have  been  mistaken, 
for  the  work  was  entitled  “Thompson  on  the  Nervous 
System ;”  while  those  lines  traced  in  a  delicate  female  hand, 
upon  the  perfumed  note-paper,  and  carried  by  Mrs.  Magru¬ 
der,  so  far  from  embodying  an  expression  of  the  gentlest  and 
most  sacred  emotions  of  her  bosom,  were  merely  a  diagnosis 
of  an  aggravated  case  of  fatty  degeneration  of  the  heart. 

I  give  the  story  literally  as  I  received  it  from  that  emi¬ 
nent  practitioner  Jones. 

When  the  whole  party  had  entered  the  room,  Mrs. 
Magruder  closed  the  door  and  applied  chloroform  to  her 
husband’s  nose.  As  soon  as  he  became  completely  insensible, 
the  sewing  in  the  hands  of  the  ladies  was  quickly  laid  aside, 
and  to  Magruder’s  secreted  brother  was  disclosed  the  alarm¬ 
ing  fact  that  this  was  a  class  of  students  from  the  college. 

If  Dr.  Jones  is  to  be  believed,  Professor  Magruder  began 
her  lecture  with  some  very  able  remarks  upon  the  nervous 
system;  and  in  order  to  demonstrate  her  meaning  more 
plainly,  she  attached  a  galvanic  battery  to  her  husband’s 
toes,  so  that  she  might  make  him  wriggle  before  the  class. 
And  he  did  wriggK  Mrs.  Magruder  gave  him  a  dozen  or 


QUIZZING  THE  CLASS. 


75 


two  shocks  and  poked  him  with  a  ruler  to  make  him  jump 
around,  while  the  students  stood  in  a  semi-circle,  with 
note-books  in  their  hands,  and  exclaimed,  “  How  very 
interesting !” 

Magruder’s  brother  thought  it  awful,  but  he  was  afraid 
to  come  out  when  he  reflected  that  they  might  want  two 
skeletons  at  the  college. 

Mrs.  Magruder  then  said  that  she  would  pursue  this 
branch  of  the  investigation  no  further  at  that  moment, 
because  Mr.  Magruder’s  system  was  somewhat  debilitated  in 
consequence  of  an  overdose  of  chlorate  of  potash  which  she 
had  administered  in  his  coffee  upon  the  previous  day  for  the 
purpose  of  testing  the  strength  of  the  drug. 

Mrs.  Magruder  then  proceeded  to  “  quiz  ”  the  class  con¬ 
cerning  the  general  construction  of  her  husband.  She  said, 
for  instance,  that  she  had  won  what  was  called  the  heart  of 
Mr.  Magruder,  and  she  asked  the  students  what  it  was  that 
she  had  really  wron. 

“  Why,  the  cardia,  of  course,”  said  the  class ;  “  it  is  an 
azygous  muscle  of  an  irregular  pyramid  shape,  situated  ob¬ 
liquely  and  a  little  to  the  left  side  of  the  chest,  and  it  rests 
on  the  diaphragm.” 

One  fair  young  thing  said  that  it  didn’t  rest  on  the 
diaphragm. 

Another  one  said  she  would  bet  a  quart  of  paregoric  it 
did,  and  until  the  dispute  was  settled  by  the  professor,  Ma¬ 
gruder’s  brother’s  hair  stood  on  end  with  fear  lest  they  should 
go  to  probing  around  inside  of  Magruder  with  a  butcher- 
knife  and  a  lantern,  for  the  purpose  of  determining  the 
actual  condition  of  affairs  respecting  his  diaphragm. 

Mrs.  Magruder  continued.  She  explained  that  when  she 
accepted  Mr.  Magruder  he  seized  her  hand,  and  she  required 
the  class  to  explain  what  it  was  that  Mr.  Magruder  actually 
had  hold  of. 


76 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


The  students  replied  that  he  held  in  his  grip  twenty- 
seven  distinct  bones,  among  which  might  be  mentioned  the 
phalanges,  the  carpus  and  the  metacarpus. 

The  beautiful  creature  who  was  incredulous  concerning 
the  diaphragm  suggested  that  he  also  had  hold  of  the  del¬ 
toid.  But  the  others  scornfully  suggested  that  the  deltoid 
was  a  muscle ;  they  knew,  because  they  had  dissected  one 
that  very  morning.  The  discussion  became  so  exciting  that 
thumb-lancets  were  drawn,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  pros¬ 
pect  of  bloodshed,  when  the  professor  interfered  and  de¬ 
manded  of  the  girl  who  had  begun  to  cry  about  the  deltoid 
what  was  the  result  when  Mr.  Magruder  kissed  her. 

“  Why  merely  a  contraction  of  the  orbicularis  oris  muscle ; 
thus,”  said  the  student  as  she  leaned  over  and  kissed  Mr. 
Magruder. 

Magruder’s  brother,  in  the  closet,  thought  maybe  it  wasn’t 
so  very  solemn  for  Magruder  after  all.  He  considered  this 
portion  of  the  exercises  in  a  certain  sense  soothing. 

But  all  the  students  said  it  was  perfectly  scandalous.  And 
the  professor  herself,  after  informing  the  offender  that  here¬ 
after  when  illustration  of  any  point  in  the  lesson  was  needed 
it  would  be  supplied  by  the  professor,  ordered  her  to  go  to 
the  foot  of  the  class,  and  to  learn  eighty  new  bones  as  a 
punishment. 

“  Do  you  hear  me,  miss  ?”  demanded  the  professor,  when 
she  perceived  that  that  blooming  contractor  of  the  orbicularis 
oris  did  not  budge. 

“Yes,”  she  said,  “I  am  conscious  of  a  vibration  striking 
against  the  membrana  tympanum,  and  being  transmitted 
through  the  labyrinth  until  it  agitates  the  auditory  nerve, 
which  conveys  the  impression  to  the  brain.” 

“  Correct,”  said  the  professor.  “  Then  obey  me,  or  I  will 
call  my  biceps  and  flexors  and  scapularis  into  action  and  put 
you  in  your  place  by  force.” 


•  A  GENERAL  ATTACK  ON  THE  SUBJECT.” 


' 

Tk«  Library 

**>w 

»f  the 


. 


THE  FINAL  EXAMINATION. 


79 


“  Yes,  and  we  will  help  her  with  our  spinatus  and  infra- 
spiralis,”  exclaimed  the  rest  of  the  class. 

Magruder’s  brother  in  the  gloom  of  his  closet  did  not  com¬ 
prehend  the  character  of  these  threats,  but  he  had  a  vague 
idea  that  the  life  of  that  lovely  young  saw¬ 
bones  was  menaced  by  firearms  and  other 
engines  of  war  of  a  peculiarly  deadly  de¬ 
scription.  He  felt  that  the  punishment  was 
too  severe  for  the  crime.  Magruder  himself, 
he  was  convinced,  would  have  regarded  that 
orbicularis  operation  with  courageous  fortitude  and  heroic 
composure. 

Mrs.  Magruder  then  proceeded  to  give  the  class  practice  in 
certain  operations  in  medical  treatment.  She  vaccinated 
Magruder  on  the  left  arm,  while  one  of  the  students  bled  his 
right  arm  and  showed  her  companions  how  to  tie  up  the 
vein.  They  applied  leeches  to  his  nose,  under  the  professor’s 
instructions ;  they  cupped  him  on  the  shoulder  blades ;  they 
exercised  themselves  in  spreading  mustard  plasters  on  his 
back ;  they  timed  his  pulse  ;  they  held  out  his  tongue  with 
pincers  and  examined  it  with  a  microscope,  and  two  or  three 
enthusiastic  students  kept  hovering  around  Magruder’s  leg 
with  a  saw  and  a  carving-knife,  until  Magruder’s  brother  in 
retirement  in  the  closet  shuddered  with  apprehension. 

But  the  professor  restrained  these  devotees  of  science ;  and 
when  the  other  exercises  were  ended,  she  informed  the  stu¬ 
dents  that  they  would  devote  a  few  moments  in  conclusion 
to  study  of  the  use  of  the  stomach-pump. 

Hr.  Jones  continued  :  “  I  shall  not  enter  into  particulars 
concerning  the  scene  that  then  ensued.  There  is  a  certain 
want  of  poetry  about  the  operation  of  the  weapon  just  named, 
a  certain  absence  of  dignity  and  sentiment,  which,  I  may  say, 
render  it  impossible  to  describe  it  in  a  mariner  which  will 
elevate  the  soul  and  touch  the  moral  sensibilities.'  It  will 
1 


80 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


suffice  to  observe  that  as  each  member  of  the  class  attacked 
Magruder  with  that  murderous  engine,  Magruder’s  brother, 
timid  as  he  was,  solemnly  declared  to  himself  that  if  the  class 
would  put  away  those  saws  and  things  he  would  rush  out  and 
rescue  his  brother  at  the  risk  of  his  life. 

“  He  was  saved  the  necessity  of  thus  imperiling  his  safety. 
Magruder  began  to  revive.  He  turned  over  ;  he  sat  up ;  he 
stared  wildly  at  the  company ;  he  looked  at  his  wife ;  then 
he  sank  back  upon  the  sofa  and  said  to  her,  in  a  feeble  voice: 

“  ‘  Henrietta,  somehow  or  other  I  feel  awfully  hungry !’ 

“  Hungry !  Magruder’s  brother  considered  that,  after  that 


last  performance  of  the  class,  Magruder  ought  to  have  a 
relish  for  a  couple  of  raw  buffaloes,  at  least.  He  emerged 
from  the  closet,  and  seizing  a  chair,  determined  to  tell  the 
whole  story.  Mrs.  Magruder  and  the  class  screamed,  but 
he  proceeded.  Then  up  rose  Magruder  and  discussed  the 
subject  with  vehemence,  while  his  brother  brandished  his 
chair  and  joined  in  the  chorus.  Mrs.  Magruder  and  the 


A  QUESTION. 


81 


class  cried,  and  said  Mr.  Magruder  was  a  brute,  and  he  had 
no  love  for  science.  But  Mr.  Magruder  said  that  as  for 
himself,  ‘  hang  science !’  when  a  woman  became  so  infatuated 
with  it  as  to  chop  up  her  husband  to  help  it  along.  And 
his  brother  said  he  ought  to  put  in  even  stronger  terms 
than  that.  What  followed  upon  the  adjournment  of  the 
class  is  not  known.  But  Magruder  seems  somehow  to  have 
lost  much  of  his  interest  in  medicine,  and  since  then  there 
has  been  a  kind  of  coolness  between  him  and  the  professor.” 

I  shall  repeat  this  extraordinary  narrative  to  Mr.  Parker. 
He  ought  to  be  aware  of  the  propensities  of  his  prospective 
mother-in-law  beforehand,  so  that  he  may  not  encounter  the 
dangers  which  attend  her  devotion  to  her  profession  without 
realizing  the  fact  of  their  existence.  Admitting  that  Jones 
adheres  closely  to  truth  in  his  statement,  we  may  very 
reasonably  fear  that  Mrs.  Magruder  would  not  hesitate  to 
vivisect  a  mere  son-in-law,  or  in  an  extreme  case  to  remove 
one  of  his  legs.  A  mother-in-law  with  such  dangerous  pro¬ 
clivities  ought  not  to  be  accepted  rashly  or  in  haste.  Pru¬ 
dence  requires  that  she  should  be  meditated  upon. 

“I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,”  observed  Mr.  Parker, 
as  we  sat  out  upon  the  porch  after  tea  with  Mrs.  Adeler. 
“  I  notice  that  you  always  say  ‘  is  being  done/  and  not  ‘  is 
doing.’  Now,  which  is  correct?  I  think  you’re  wrong. 
Some  of  those  big  guns  who  write  upon  such  subjects  think 
so  too.  Grind  us  out  an  opinion.” 

“  The  subject  has  been  much  discussed,  Bob,  and  a  good 
many  smart  things  have  been  said  in  support  of  both  theo¬ 
ries.  But  I  stick  to  ‘  is  being  done,’  first,  because  it  is  more 
common,  and  therefore  handier,  and  second,  because  it  is  the 
only  form  that  is  really  available  in  all  cases.  Suppose,  for 
instance,  you  wished  to  express  the  idea  that  our  boy  Aga¬ 
memnon  is  enduring  chastisement;  you  would  say,  ‘  Agamem- 


82 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


non  is  being  spanked/  not  ‘  Agamemnon  is  spanking/  The 
difference  may  seem  to  you  very  slight,  but  it  would  be  a 
matter  of  considerable  importance  to  Agamemnon ;  and  if  a 
choice  should  be  given  him,  it  is  probable  that  he  would  sud¬ 
denly  select  the  latter  form.” 

“  Just  so,”  exclaimed  Mr.  Parker. 

“You  say  again,  * Captain  Cook  is  being  eaten/  Cer¬ 
tainly  this  expresses  a  very  different  fact  from  that  which  is 
conveyed  by  the  form,  ‘  Captain  Cook  is  eating/  I  venture 
to  say  that  Captain  Cook  would  have  insisted  upon  the  latter 
as  by  far  the  more  agreeable  of  the  two  things.” 

“  Precisely,”  said  Mr.  Parker. 

“  And  equally  diverse  are  the  two  ideas  expressed  by  the 
phrases  ‘  The  mule  is  being  kicked  ’  and  ‘  The  mule  is  kick¬ 
ing/  But  it  is  to  be  admitted  that  there  are  occasions  when 
the  two  forms  indicate  a  precisely  similar  act.  You  assert, 
I  will  say,  that  ‘  Hannah  is  hugging/  ” 

“  Which  would  be  a  very  improper  thing  for  Hannah  to 
do,”  suggested  Mr.  P. 

“  Of  course  it  would ;  but  there  is  an  extreme  probability 
that  you  would  indicate  Hannah’s  action  under  the  circum¬ 
stances  if  you  should  say,  ‘  Hannah  is  being  hugged/  It  is 
in  most  cases  a  reciprocal  act.  Or  suppose  I  say,  ‘  Jane  is 
kissing’?” 

“  And  her  mother  ought  to  know  about  it  if  she  is,”  re¬ 
marked  Bob. 

“  It  is  nearly  the  same  as  if  I  should  say,  ‘  Jane  is  being 
kissed,’  for  one  performance  in  most  cases  presupposes  the 
other.  It  will  not,  however,  be  necessary  for  you  to  attempt 
to  prove  this  fact  by  practice  anywhere  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Magruder  mansion.  If  you  find  it  necessary  to  ex¬ 
plain  to  Miss  Magruder  my  views  of  this  grammatical  ques¬ 
tion,  it  will  be  better  to  confine  your  illustrations  to  the  case 
of  Captain  Cook.  But  you  can  safely  continue  to  say,  ‘  is 


SOME  CONCLUDING  ADVICE. 


83 


being  built.’  Nobody  will  object  to  that  but  a  few  superfine 
people  who  are  so  far  ahead  of  you  in  such  matters  that  they 
will  be  tolerably  sure  to  regard  you  as  an  idiot  whichever 
form  you  happen  to  use,  while  if  you  adopt  the  other  form 
in  conversation  with  your  unfastidious  acquaintances,  you 
will  be  likely  to  confuse  your  meaning  very  often  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  impress  them  with  the  conviction  that  your 
reason  is  dethroned.” 

7* 


CHAPTER  VI. 


The  Editor  of  Our  Daily  Paper — The  Appearance  and 
Personal  Characteristics  of  Colonel  Bangs — The  Af¬ 
fair  with  the  Tombstone — Art  News — Colonel  Bangs 
in  the  Heat  of  a  Political  Campaign — Peculiar  Trou¬ 
bles  of  Public  Singers — The  Phenomena  of  Menageries 
— Extraordinary  Sagacity  of  the  Animals — The  Wild 
Man  of  Afghanistan. 


HE  editor  of  our  daily  paper, 
The  Morning  Argus ,  is  Col. 
Bangs  —  Colonel  Mortimer 
J.  Bangs.  The  colonel  is  an 
exceedingly  important  per¬ 
sonage  in  the  village,  and 
he  bears  about  him  the  air 
of  a  man  who  is  acutely  con¬ 
scious  of  the  fact.  The  gait 
of  the  colonel,  the  peculiar 
way  in  which  he  carries  his 
head,  the  manner  in  which 
he  swings  his  cane,  and  the 
=jg=|  art  he  has  of  impressing  any 
one  he  happens  to  address 
with  a  feeling  that  he  is  performing  an  act  of  sublime 
condescension  in  permitting  himself  to  hold  communication 
with  an  inferior  being,  combine  to  excite  in  the  vulgar 
mind  a  sentiment  of  awe.  The  eminent  journalist  manifests 
in  his  entire  bearing  his  confidence  in  the  theory  that  upon 
him  devolves  the  responsibility  of  forming  the  public  opinion 
84 


V 


THE  COURAGE  OF  THE  COLONEL. 


85 


of  the  place ;  and  there  is  a  certain  grandeur  in  the  manner 
in  which  he  conveys  to  the  public  mind,  through  the  public 
eye,  the  fact  that  while  he  appreciates  the  difficulties  of 
what  seemed  to  be  an  almost  superhuman  task,  which  would 
surely  overwhelm  men  of  smaller  intellectual  calibre,  the 
work  presents  itself  to  his  mind' as  something  not  much 
more  formidable  than  pastime. 

The  appearance  of  Colonel  Bangs  is  not  only  imposing, 
but  sometimes  it  inclines  to  be  almost  ferocious.  The  form 
in  which  he  wears  his  whiskers,  added  to  the  military  nature 
of  his  title,  would  be  likely  to  give  to  timid  strangers  an  idea 
not  only  that  the  colonel  has  a  raging  and  insatiable  thirst 
for  blood  and  an  almost  irresistible  appetite  for  the  horrors 
of  war,  but  that  upon  very  slight  provocation  he  would 
suddenly  grasp  his  sword,  fling  away  the  scabbard,  and  then 
proceed  to  wade  through  slaughter  to  a  throne  and  shut  the 
gates  of  mercy  on  mankind.  But  I  rejoice  to  say  that  the 
colonel  has  not  really  such  murderous  and  revolutionary  in¬ 
clinations.  His  title  was  obtained  in  those  early  years  of 
peace  when  he  led  the  inoffensive  forces  of  the  militia  upon 
parade,  and  marshaled  them  as  they  braved  the  perils  of  the 
target-shooting  excursion. 

I  think  I  am  warranted  in  saying  that  Colonel  Bangs 
would  never  voluntarily  stand 
in  the  imminent  deadly  breach 
if  there  happened  to  be  a  man 
there  with  a  gun  who  wanted 
him  to  leave,  and  that  he  will 
never  seek  the  bubble  reputation 
at  the  cannon’s  mouth  unless  the 
cannon  happens  to  be  unloaded. 

Place  Colonel  Bangs  in  front  of 
an  empty  cannon,  and  for  a  proper  consideration  he  would 
remain  there  for  years  without  the  quiver  of  a  muscle. 


86 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Charge  that  piece  of  ordnance  with  powder  and  ball,  and 
not  all  the  wealth  of  the  wTorld  would  induce  him  to  stand 
anywhere  but  in  the  rear  of  the  artillery. 

The  Argus  has  never  appeared  to  me  to  be  an  especially 
brilliant  journal.  To  the  intelligent  and  critical  reader,  in¬ 
deed,  the  controlling  purpose  of  the  colonel  seems  to  be  to 
endeavor  to  ascertain  how  near  he  can  bring  the  paper  to 
imbecility  without  actually  reaching  that  condition ;  and  it 
is  surprising  how  close  a  shave  he  makes  of  it.  When  we 
first  came  to  the  village,  a  gleam  of  intelligence  now  and  then 
appeared  in  the  editorial  columns  of  the  Argus ,  and  this 
phenomenon  was  generally  attributed  to  the  circumstance 
that  Colonel  Bangs  t  had  permitted  his  assistant  editor  to 
spread  his  views  before  the  public.  On  such  occasions  it 
was  entertaining  to  observe  in  what  manner  the  colonel 
would  assume  the  honors  of  the  authorship  of  his  assistant’s 
articles.  Cooley,  for  instance,  meeting  him  upon  the  street 
would  observe : 

“  That  was  an  uncommonly  good  thing,  colonel,  which  ap¬ 
peared  in  the  Argus  this  morning 
on  The  Impending  Struggle ;  whose 
was  it?” 

Colonel  Bangs  (with  an  air  of 
mingled  surprise  and  indignation). 
Whose  was  it?  Whose  was  that 
article  ?  I  suppose  you  are  aware, 
sir,  that  I  am  the  editor  of  The 
Morning  Argus  !” 

Cooley.  “Yes;  but  I  thought 
perhaps — ” 

Colonel  (with  grandeur).  “No 
matter,  sir,  what  you  thought. 
When  an  article  appears  in  my  own 
paper,  Mr.  Cooley,  there  is  but  a  single  inference  to  be 


A  GRATUITOUS  TOMBSTONE. 


87 


drawn.  When  I  find  myself  unable  to  edit  the  Argus,  l 
will  sell  out,  sir — I  will  sell  out !” 

Cooley  (calmly).  “Well,  but  Murphy,  your  assistant, 
>old  me  distinctly  that  he  wrote  that  editorial  himself.” 

Colonel  (coming  down).  “Ah!  yes,  yes!  that  is  partly 
true,  now  I  remember.  I  believe  Murphy  did  scratch  off 
the  body  of  the  article,  but  I  overhauled  it ;  it  was  neces¬ 
sary  for  me  to  revise  it,  to  touch  it  up,  to  throw  it  into  shape, 
as  it  were,  before  it  went  into  type.  Murphy  means  well, 
and  with  a  little  guidance — just  a  1-e-e-t-l-e  careful  training 
— he  will  do.” 

But  Murphy  did  not  remain  long.  One  of  the  colonel’s 


little  nephews  died,  and  a  man  who  kept  a  marble-yard  in 
Wilmington  thought  he  might  obtain  a  gratuitous  adver¬ 
tisement  by  giving  to  the  afflicted  uncle  a  substantial  ex¬ 
pression  of  his  sympathy.  So  he  got  up  a  gravestone  for 
the  departed  child.  The  design,  cut  upon  the  stone  in  bas- 
relief,  represented  an  angel  carrying  the  little  one  in  his 


88 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


arms  and  flying  away  with  it,  while  a  woman  sat  weeping 
upon  the  ground.  It  was  executed  in  a  most  dreadful  man¬ 
ner.  The  tombstone  was  sent  to  the  colonel,  with  a  simple 
request  that  he  would  accept  it.  As  he  was  absent,  Mr. 
Murphy  determined  to  acknowledge  the  gift,  although  he 
had  not  the  slightest  idea  what  it  meant.  So  the  next  morn¬ 
ing  he  burst  out  in  the  Argus  with  the  following  remarks : 

“art  news. 

“We  have  received  from  the  eminent  sculptor,  Mr.  Felix 
Mullins  of  Wilmington,  a  comic  bas-relief  designed  for  an 
ornamental  fireboard.  It  represents  an  Irishman  in  his 
night-shirt  running  away  with  the  little  god  Cupid,  while 
the  Irishman’s  sweetheart  demurely  hangs  her  head  in  the 


corner.  Every  true  work  of  art  tells  its  own  story ;  and  wo 
understand,  as  soon  as  we  glance  at  this,  that  our  Irish 
friend  has  been  coqueted  with  by  the  fair  one,  and  is  pre¬ 
tending  to  transfer  his  love  to  other  quarters.  There  is  a 
lurking  smile  on  the  Irishman’s  lips  which  expresses  his 


BANGS  DURING  A  CAMPAIGN. 


89 


mischievous  intentions  perfectly.  We  think  it  would  have 
been  better,  however,  to  have  clothed  him  in  something  else 
than  a  night-shirt,  and  to  have  smoothed  down  his  hair.  We 
have  placed  this  chef  d’ oeuvre  upon  a  shelf  in  our  office,  where 
it  will  undoubtedly  be  admired  by  our  friends  when  they  call. 
We  are  glad  to  encourage  such  progress  in  Delaware  art.” 

This  was  painful.  When  the  colonel  returned  next  day, 
Mr.  Mullins  called  on  him  and  explained  the  tombstone  to 
him,  and  that  very  night  Mr.  Murphy  retired  from  the 
Morning  Argus,  and  began  to  seek  fresh  fields 
for  the  exercise  of  his  talents. 

Colonel  Bangs  affords  me  most  entertainment 
in  the  Argus  when  an  election  is  approaching. 

Your  city  editor  often  displays  a  certain 
amount  of  vehemence  at  such  times,  but  his 
wildest  frenzy  is  calmness,  is  absolute  slumberous  repose 
itself,  when  compared  with  the  frantic  enthusiasm  mani¬ 
fested  by  Colonel  Bangs.  The  latter  succeeds  in  getting  up 
as  much  fury  over  a  candidate  for  constable  as  a  city  editor 
does  over  an  aspirant  for  the  Presidency.  He  will  turn  out 
column  after  column  of  double-leaded  type,  in  which  he  will 
demonstrate  with  a  marvelous  profusion  of  adjectives  that 
if  you  should  roll  all  the  prophets,  saints  and  martyrs  into 
one,  you  would  have  a  much  smaller  amount  of  virtue  than 
can  be  found  in  that  one  humble  man  who  wants  to  be  con¬ 
stable.  He  will  prove  to  you  that  unless  that  particular 
person  is  elected,  the  entire  fabric  of  American  institutions 
will  totter  to  its  base  and  become  a  bewildering  and  hopeless 
ruin,  while  the  merciless  despots  who  grind  enslaved  millions 
beneath  their  iron  heels  will  greet  the  hideous  and  irre¬ 
claimable  chaos  with  fiendish  laughter,  and  amid  the  rem¬ 
nants  of  a  once  proud  republic  they  will  erect  bastiles  in 
which  they  will  forge  chains  to  fetter  the  wrists  of  dismayed 
and  heart-broken  patriots.  He  will  ask  you  to  take  your 


90 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


choice  between  electing  that  man  constable  and  witnessing 
the  annihilation  of  the  proud  work  for  which  the  Revo¬ 
lutionary  patriots  bled  and  died. 

The  man  who  runs  against  the  candidate  of  the  Argus 
will  be  proved  to  be  a  moral  and  intellectual  wreck,  and  it 
will  be  shown  that  all  the  vices  which  have  corrupted  the 
race  since  the  fall  of  man  are  concentrated  in  that  one  indi¬ 
vidual.  The  day  after  election,  if  his  man  wins,  Colonel 
Bangs  will  decorate  his  paper  with  a  whole  array  of  roosters 
and  a  menagerie  of  ’coons,  and  inform  a  breathless  world 
that  the  nation  is  once  more  saved.  If  he  loses,  he  will 
omit  any  reference  to  the  frightful  prophecies  uttered  during 
the  campaign,  keep  his  roosters  in  the  closet,  and  mildly 
assert  that  the  opposition  man  is  not  so  bad,  after  all,  and 
that  the  right  party  must  triumph  next  time  for  certain. 
Then  Colonel  Bangs  will  keep  his  enthusiasm  cool  for  a 
year,  and  during  that  period  will  rest  his  overwrought 
brain,  while  he  edits  his  paper  with  a  pair  of  predatory 
shears  and  a  dishonest  paste-pot. 

It  is  extremely  probable  that  we  shall  lose  our  servant- 
girl.  She  was  the  victim  of  a  very  singular  catastrophe  a 
night  or  two  since,  in  consequence  of  which  she  has  acquired 
a  prejudice  against  the  house  of  Adeler.  We  were  troubled 
with  dampness  in  our  cellar,  and  in  order  to  remove  the 
difficulty  we  got  a  couple  of  men  to  come  and  dig  the  earth 
out  to  the  depth  of  twelve  or  fifteen  inches  and  fill  it  in 
with  a  cement-and-mortar  floor.  The  material  was,  of 
course,  very  soft,  and  the  workmen  laid  boards  upon  the 
surface,  so  that  access  to  the  furnace  and  the  coal-bin  was 
possible.  That  night,  just  after  retiring,  we  heard  a  woman 
screaming  for  help,  but  after  listening  at  the  open  window, 
we  concluded  that  Cooley  and  his  wife  were  engaged  in  an 
altercation,  and  so  we  paid  no  more  attention  to  the  noise. 


A  CAPTIVE  MAIDEN. 


91 


Half  an  hour  afterward  there  was  a  violent  ring  at  the  front¬ 
door  bell,  and  upon  going  to  the  window  again,  I  found  Pit¬ 
man  standing  upon  the  door-step  below.  When  I  spoke  to 
him,  he  said : 

“  Max”  (the  judge  is  inclined  sometimes,  especially  during 
periods  of  excitement,  to  be  unnecessarily  familiar),  “  there’s 
somethin’  wrong  in  your  cellar.  There’s  a  woman  down 
there  screechin’  and  carryin’  on  like  mad.  Sounds  ’s  if 
somebody’s  a-murderin’  her.” 

I  dressed  and  descended ;  and  securing  the 
assistance  of  Pitman,  so  that  I  would  be  better 
prepared  'in  the  event  of  burglars  being  dis¬ 
covered,  I  lighted  a  lamp  and  we  went  into  the 
cellar. 

There  we  found  the  maid-ser¬ 
vant  standing  by  the  refrigera¬ 
tor,  knee-deep  in  the  cement, 
and  supporting  herself  with  the 
handle  of  a  broom,  which  was 
also  half  submerged.  In  seve¬ 
ral  places  about  her  were  air¬ 
holes  marking  the  spot  where 
the  milk-jug,  the  cold  veal,  the 
lima  beans  and  the  silver-plated 
butter-dish  had  gone  down.  We 
procured  some  additional  boards, 
and  while  Pitman  seized  the  suf¬ 
ferer  by  one  arm  I  grasped  tl 
time  doubtful  if  she  would  come  to  the  surface  without 
the  use  of  more  violent  means,  and  I  confess  that  I  was 
half  inclined  to  regard  with  satisfaction  the  prospect  that 
we  would  have  to  blast  her  loose  with  gunpowder.  After 
a  desperate  struggle,  during  which  the  girl  declared  that 

she  would  be  torn  in  pieces,  Pitman  and  I  succeeded  in 
8 


92 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


getting  her  safely  out,  and  she  went  up  stairs  with  half 
a  barrel  of  cement  on  each  leg,  declaring 
that  she  would  leave  the  house  in  the  morn- 
ing. 

The  cold  veal  is  in  there  yet.  Centuries 
hence  some  antiquarian  will  perhaps  grub 
about  the  spot  whereon  my  cot¬ 
tage  once  stood,  and  will  blow 
that  cold  veal  out  in  a  petrified 
condition,  and  then  present  it  to 
a  museum  as  the  fossil  remains 
of  some  unknown  animal.  Per¬ 
haps,  too,  he  will  excavate  the 
milk-jug  and  the  butter-dish,  and 
go  about  lecturing  upon  them  as 
utensils  employed  in  bygone  ages  by  a  1  3e  of  savages 
called  “  the  Adelers.”  I  should  like  to  be  a  ve  at  the  time 
to  hear  that  lecture.  And  I  cannot  avoid  the  thought  that 


PECULIAR  MANIFESTATIONS. 


93 


if  our  servant  had  been  completely  buried  in  the  cement, 
and  thus  carefully  preserved  until  the  coming  of  that  anti¬ 
quarian,  the  lecture  would  be  more  interesting,  and  the  girl 
more  useful  than  she  is  now.  A  fossilized  domestic  servant 
of  the  present  era  would  probably  astonish  the  people  of  the 
twrenty-eighth  century. 

“I  see,”  said  Mrs.  Adeler,  who  was  looking  over  the 
evening  paper  upon  the  day  following  the  accident,  “  that 
Mile.  Willson,  the  opera-singer,  has  been  robbed  of  ten  thou¬ 
sand  dollars’  worth  of  diamonds  in  St.  Louis.  What  a 
dreadful  loss !” 

“  Dreadful,  indeed,  Mrs.  A.  These  singing  women  are 
very  unfortunate.  They  are  constantly  being  robbed,  or 
rolled  over  embankments  in  railway  cars,  or  subjected  to 
deadly  perils  in  some  other  form ;  and  the  astonishing  thing 
about  it  all  is  that  these  frightful  things  invariably  occur 
precisely  at  the  times  when  public  interest  in  the  victims 
begins  to  flag  a  little,  and  the  accounts  always  appear  in  the 
papers  of  a  certain  city  just  before  the  singers  begin  an  en¬ 
gagement  in  that  place.  It  is  very  remarkable.” 

“  You  don’t  think  this  story  is  false,  do  you,  and  that  all 
such  statements  are  untrue  ?” 

“Certainly  not.  I  only  refer  to  the  fact  because  it  shows 
how  very  wonderful  coincidences  often  are.  I  have  observed 
precisely  the  same  thing  in  connection  with  other  contrib¬ 
utors  to  popular  entertainment.  But  in  these  cases  some¬ 
times  we  may  trace  the  effects  directly  to  the  cause.  Take 
menageries,  for  example.  The  peculiar  manifestations  which 
frequently  attend  the  movements  of  these  collections  of  wild 
animals  through  the  land  can  be  attributed  only  to  the  won¬ 
derful  instinct  of  the  beasts.  If  I  am  to  judge  from  the 
reports  that  appear  occasionally  in  the  provincial  news¬ 
papers,  it  invariably  happens  that  the  animals  come  to  the 


94 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


rescue  of  the  menagerie  people  when  the  latter  begin  their 
campaigns  and  are  badly  in  want  of  advertisements  for 
which  they  are  disinclined  to  pay. 

“  Regularly  every  season  these  ferocious  beasts  proceed  to 
do  something  to  secure  sensational  allusions  to  themselves  in 
the  papers.  If  the  rhinoceros  does  not  plunge  through  the 

side  of  the  tent  and 
. 3  prowl  about  until 

he  comes  home 
with  an  entire  Sun¬ 
day-school  class  of 
small  boys  impaled 
on  his  horn,  the 
Nubian  lion  is  per¬ 
fectly  certain  to  bite 
its  keeper  in  half  and  lunch  upon  his  legs.  If  the  elephant 
should  neglect  to  seize  his  at¬ 
tendant  and  fling  him  into  the 
parquet  circle,  while  at  the  same 
time  it  crushes  the  hyena  into 
jelly,  the  Bengal  tiger  is  very 
sure  not  to  forget  to  tear  half 
a  dozen  ribs  out  of  the  ticket 
agent,  and  then  to  assimilate 
ten  or  twelve  village  children 
who  are  trying  to  peep  under 
the  tent.  Either  the  brass 

band,  riding  upon  the  den  of  lions,  finds  the  roof  caving 
in,  and  at  last  is  rescued  with  the  loss  of  the  cymbal 
player  and  the  operator  upon  the  key  bugle,  and  of  a  lot  of 
legs  and  arms  snatched  from  the  bass  drummer  and  the  man 
with  the  triangle,  or  else  there  is  a  railroad  accident  which 
empties  the  cars  and  permits  kangaroos,  panthers,  blue-nose 
baboons  and  boa-constrictors  to  roam  about  the  country  re- 


THE  WILD  MAN. 


95 


ducing  the  majorities  of  the  afflicted  sections  previous  to  the 
election. 

“You  may  find  hundreds  of  accounts  of  such  accidents  in 
the  rural  press  during  the  summer  season ;  and  whenever  I 
read  them,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  determine  which  is  more  won¬ 
derful,  the  remarkable  sagacity  and  the  self-sacrificing  devo¬ 
tion  of  these  beasts,  which  perceive  that  something  must  be 
done  and  straightway  do  it,  or  the  childlike  confidence,  the 
bland  simplicity,  of  the  editors  who  give  gratuitous  circula¬ 
tion  to  these  narratives.” 

“  Talking  about  menageries,”  observed  Mr.  Bob  Parker, 
“did  I  ever  tell  you  about  Wylie  and  his  love  affair?” 

“  No.” 

“  Wylie,  you  know,  was  the  brother  of  the  porter  in  our 
store;  and  when  he  had  nothing  to  do,  he  used  to  come 
around  and  sit  in  the  cellar  among  the  boxes  and  bales,  and 
we  fellows  would  go  down  when  we  were  at  leisure  and  hear 
him  relate  his  adventures. 

“  One  time,  several  years  ago,  he  was  awfully  hard  up, 
and  he  accepted  a  situation  in  a  traveling  show.  They 
dressed  him  up  in  a  fur  shirt  and  put  grizzly  bears’  claws 
on  his  feet  and  daubed  some  stuff*  over  his  face,  and  adver¬ 
tised  him  as  *  The  Wild  Man  of  Afghanistan.’  Then,  when 
the  show  was  open,  he  would  stand  in  a  cage  and  scrouge  up 
against  the  bars  and  growl  until  he  would  scare  the  children 
nearly  to  death.  The  fat  woman  used  to  sit  near  him  during 
the  exhibitions  just  outside  the  cage,  and  by  degrees  he 
learned  to  love  her.  The  keeper  of  the  concern  himself,  it 
appears,  also  cherished  a  tender  feeling  for  the  corpulent 
young  creature,  and  he  became  jealous  of  the  Wild  Man  of 
Afghanistan.” 

“  And  the  professor  of  avoirdupois — whom  did  she  affect  ?” 

“  Well,  when  the  visitors  came,  the  keeper  would  procure 

a  pole  with  a  nail  in  the  end,  and  he  would  stir  up  the  Wild 
8  * 


96 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Man  and  poke  him.  Then  he  would  ridicule  the  Wild 
Man’s  legs  and  deliver  lectures  upon  the  manner  in  which 
he  turned  in  his  toes ;  and  he  sometimes  read  to  the  audience 


chapters  out  of  books  of  natural  history  to  show  that  a  being 
with  a  skull  of  such  a  shape  must  necessarily  be  an  idiot. 
Then  he  would  poke  the  Wild  Man  of  Afghanistan  a  few 
more  times  with  the  pole  and  pass  on  to  the  next  cage  with 
some  remarks  tending  to  prove  that  the  monkeys  therein 
and  the  Wild  Man  were  of  the  same  general  type. 

“And  all  the  time  the  fat  woman  would  sit  there  and 
smile  a  cold  and  disdainful  smile,  as  if  she  believed  it  all, 
and  hated  such  legs  and  despised  toes  that 
turned  in.  At  last  the  Wild  Man  of  Af¬ 
ghanistan  had  his  revenge.  One  day  when 
all  hands  were  off  duty,  the  keeper  fell 
asleep  on  the  settee  in  the  ticket-office  ad¬ 
joining  the  show-room.  Then  Mr.  Wylie  threw  a  blanket 
over  him  and  went  for  the  fat  woman.  He  led  her  by  the 


AND  SHE  SAT  DOWN. 


97 


hand  and  asked  her  to  be  seated  while  he  told  her  about  his 
love.  Then  she  suddenly  sat  down  on  the  keeper.” 


“  And  killed  him,  I  suppose,  of  course  ?” 


98 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“Wylie  informed  me  that  you  could  have  passed  the  re¬ 
mains  under  a  closed  door  without  scraping  the  buttons  of 
the  waistcoat.  They  merely  slid  him  into  a  crack  in  the 

ground  when  they  buried  him,  and 
the  fat  woman  pined  away  until  she 
became  thin  and  valueless.  Then 
the  Wild  Man  married  her,  and  be¬ 
gan  life  again  on  a  new  basis.” 

“  Was  Mr.  Wylie  what  you  might 
consider  a  man  of  veracity  ?” 

“  Certainly  he  was ;  and  his  story 
is  undoubtedly  true,  because  his 
toes  did  turn  in.” 

“  That  settles  the  matter.  With 
such  incontrovertible  evidence  as 
that  at  hand,  it  would  be  folly  to 
doubt  the  story.  We  will  go  quietly 
and  confidently  to  tea  instead  of  discussing  it.” 


CHAPTER  VII. 


The  Battery  and  its  Peculiarities — A  Lovely  Scene — 
Swede  and  Dutchman  Two  Hundred  Years  Ago — Old 
Names  of  the  River — Indian  Names  Generally — Cooley’s 
Boy— His  Adventure  in  Church — The  Long  and  the 
Short  of  It — Mr.  Cooley’s  Dog  and  Our  Troubles 
with  It. 

HE  closing  hours  of  the  long  sum¬ 
mer  afternoon  can  be  spent  in 
no  pleasanter  place  than  by  the 
water’s  side.  And  after  tea  I 
like  to  take  my  little  group  of 
Adelers  out  from  the  hot  streets 
over  the  grassy  way  which  leads 
to  the  river  shore,  and  to  find  a 
comfortable  loitering-place  upon 
the  Battery.  That  spot  is  adorned 
with  a  long  row  of  rugged  old 
trees  whose  trunks  are  gashed 
and  scarred  by  the  penknives  of 
idlers.  Their  branches  inter¬ 
lock  overhead  and  form  one 
great  mass  of  tender  green  foliage,  here  sweeping  down 
almost  to  the  earth,  and  there  hanging  far  out  over  the 
water,  trembling  and  rustling  in  the  breeze.  Beileath,  there 
is  a  succession  of  hewn  logs,  suggesting  the  existence  of  some 
sort  of  a  wharf  in  the  remote  past,  but  now  serving  nicely 
for  seats  for  those  who  come  here  to  spend  a  quiet  hour, 

99 


100 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Around  there  is  a  sod  which  grows  lush  and  verdant,  ex¬ 
cepting  where  the  tread  of  many  feet  has  worn  a  pathway 
backward  to  the  village 

In  front  is  as  lovely  a  scene  as  any  the  eye  can  rest  upon 
in  this  portion  of  the  world.  Below  us  the  rising  and  the 
ebbing  tides  hurl  the  tiny  ripples  upon  the  pebbly  beach,  and 
the  perpetual  wash  of  the  waves  makes  that  gentle  and  con¬ 
stant  music  which  is  among  the  most  grateful  of  the  sounds 
of  nature. 

Away  to  the  southward  sweeps  the  Delaware  shore  line  in 
a  mighty  curve  which  gives  the  river  here  the  breadth  and 
magnificence  of  a  great  lake,  and  at  the  end  of  the  chord 
of  the  arc  the  steeples  and  the  masts  at  Delaware  City  rise 
in  indistinct  outline  from  the  waves.  To  the  left,  farther  in 
the  distance,  old  Fort  Delaware  lifts  its  battlements  above 
the  surface  of  the  stream.  And  see !  A  puff  of  white  smoke 
rises  close  by  the  flag-staff.  And  now  a  dull  thud  comes 
with  softened  cadence  across  the  wide  interval.  It  is  the 
sunset  gun.  Far,  far  beyond,  a  sail  glimmers  with  rosy 
light  caught  from  the  brilliant  hues  of  the  clouds  which 
make  the  western  heavens  glorious  with  their  crimson 
drapery ;  and  while  here  as  we  gaze  straight  out  through 
the  bay  there  is  naught  in  the  perspective  but  water  and 
sky,  to  the  right  the  low-lying  land  below  the  island  fortress 
seems,  somehow,  to  be  queerly  suspended  between  river  and 
heaven,  until  as  it  recedes  it  grows  more  and  more  shadowy, 
and  at  last  melts  away  into  the  mist  that  creeps  in  from  the 
ocean.  It  is  pure  happiness  to  sit  here  beneath  the  trees  and 
to  look  upon  the  scene  while  the  cool  air  pours  in  from  the 
water  and  lifts  into  the  upper  atmosphere  the  oppressive  heat 
that  has  mantled  the  earth  during  the  day. 

I  do  not  know  why  the  place  is  called  “the  Battery.” 
Perhaps  a  couple  of  centuries  ago  the  Swedes  may  have 
built  here  a  breastwork  with  which  to  menace  their  hated 


THE  BATTRRT 


l  fbrtrj 

•(  th» 


TWO  CENTURIES  AGO. 


103 


Dutch  rivals  who  held  the  fort  just  below  us  there  upon 
the  river  bank.  (We  will  walk  over  to  the  spot  some  day, 
Mrs.  Adeler.)  And  who  can  tell 
what  strange  old  Northmen  in 
jerkin  and  helmet  have  marched 
up  and  down  this  very  stretch  of 
level  sward,  carrying  huge  fire¬ 
lock  muskets  and  swearing  mighty 
oaths  as  they  watched  the  intrud¬ 
ing  Dutchman  in  his  stronghold, 
caring  little  for  the  placid  loveli¬ 
ness  of  the  view  which  the  rolling 
tide  of  the  majestic  river  ever 
offered  to  their  eyes ! 

But  some  of  those  people 
could  appreciate  this  beautiful 
panorama.  Some  of  them  did  not  forget  the  grandeur  of 
nature  while  their  little  passions  raged  against  the  Dutch¬ 
men.  It  was  Jasper  Dankers  who  came  here  from  Sweden 
in  1676,  and  looked  out  from  this  Battery ;  returning  home, 
he  wrote  in  his  diary  in  this  fashion : 

“  The  town  is  situated  upon  a  point  which  extends  out  with 
a  sandy  beach,  affording  a  good  landing-place.  It  lies  a 
little  above  the  bay  where  the  river  bends  and  runs  south 
from  there,  so  that  you  can  see  down  the  river  southwardly. 
The  greater  portion  of  it  presents  a  beautiful  view  in  per¬ 
spective,  and  enables  you  to  see  from  a  distance  the  ships 
come  out  from  the  great  bay  and  sail  up  the  river.” 

The  sandy  beach  is  gone,  and  the  ships  which  float 
upward  from  the  bay  are  not  such  craft  as  Dankers  saw ; 
but  the  stream  has  its  ancient  majesty,  and  the  wooded  banks, 
I  like  to  think,  present  to  our  eyes  nearly  the  same  sweet 
picture  that  touched  the  soul  of  that  old  Swede  two  long 
centuries  ago. 


104 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Another  thing  has  changed — yes,  it  has  changed  many 
times.  The  Indians,  Mrs.  A.,  called  the  bay  Poutaxat 
and  the  river  Lenape  Wihittuck.  The  stream,  too,  was 
named  the  Arasapha,  and  also  Mackerish  Kitton — a  title 
pretty  enough  in  its  way,  but  oddly  suggestive  of  mackerel 
and  kittens.  But  the  Swedes  came,  and  with  that  passion 
which  burned  in  the  bosoms  of  all  the  early  European  immi¬ 
grants  for  prefixing  the  word  “  new  ”  to  the  names  of  natural 
objects,  they  entitled  the  river  New  Swedeland  Stream.  Then 
the  Dutch  obtained  the  mastery  here,  and  it  became  the 
South  River,  the  Hudson  being  the  North  River,  and  finally 
the  English  obtained  possession,  and  called  it  Delaware. 

What  a  pity  it  is  that  they  didn’t  suffer  one  of  the  origi¬ 
nal  titles  to  remain !  The  Lenape  would  have  been  a 
beautiful  name  for  the  river — far  better  than  the  Gallic 
compound  that  it  bears  now.  The  men  who  settled  this 
country  seem  to  have  had  for  Indian  names  the  same  intense 
dislike  that  they  entertained  for  the  savages  themselves,  and 
as  a  rule  they  rejected  with  scorn  the  soft,  sweet  syllables  with 
which  mountain  and  forest  and  stream  were  crowned,  substi¬ 
tuting  too  often  most  barbarous  words  therefor.  Even  Penn 
and  his  Quakers  disdained  the  Indian  names.  How  much 
better  Pennsylvania  would  have  been  treated  if  that  grand 
old  State  had  been  called  Susquehanna  or  Juniata  or  Alle¬ 
gheny!  And  would  it  not  have  been  wiser  if  the  city, 
instead  of  bringing  its  name  from  Asia,  had  sought  it 
among  its  own  surroundings,  and  had  grown  to  greatness  as 
Wissahickon  or  Wingohocking  ?  The  Indian  names  that 
still  remain  here  and  there  to  designate  a  stream,  a  district 
or  a  town  are  the  few  distinctly  American  words  in  existence. 
We  have  thrown  away  the  others,  although  they  were  a  very 
precious  part  of  the  legacy  which  we  received  from  the  race 
we  have  supplanted.  One  such  word  as  Wyoming  is  worth 
an  entire  volume  of  such  names  as  New  York,  Philadelphia, 


COOLEY’S  BOY. 


105 


Baltimore,  Maryland  and  the  like;  and  I  have  always 
wondered  at  the  blundering  folly  of  the  man  who,  with 
such  musical  syllables  at  hand  ready  to  be  used,  dubbed 
the  town  of  Wilkes  Barre  with  that  particularly  poor 
name. 

While  we  were  sitting  by  the  river  discussing  these  and 
other  matters,  Cooley’s  boy,  a  thoroughly  disagreeable 
urchin,  who  had  been  playing  with  some  other  boys  upon 
the  wharf  near  by,  tumbled  into  the  water.  There  was  a 
terrible  screaming  among  his  companions,  and  a  crowd 
quickly  gathered  upon  the  pier.  For  a  few  moments  it 
seemed  as  if  the  boy  would  drown,  for  no  one  was  disposed 
to  leap  in  after  him,  and  there  was  not  a  boat  within  saving 
distance.  But  fortunately  the  current  swept  him  around  to 
the  front  of  the  Battery,  where  the  water  is  shallow,  and 
before  he  was  seriously  hurt  he  was  safely  landed  in  the 
mud  that  stretches  below  the  low-water  mark.  Then  the 
excitement,  which  had  been  so  great  as  to  attract  about  half 
the  population  of  the  village,  died  away,  and  people  who 
had  just  been  filled  with  horror  at  the  prospect  of  a  tragedy 
began  to  feel  a  sense  of  disappointment  because  their  fears 
had  not  been  realized.  I  cannot  of  course  say  that  I  was 
sorry  to  see  the  youngster  once  more  upon  dry  land ;  but  if 
fate  had  robbed  us  of  him,  we 
should  have  accepted  the  dis¬ 
pensation  without  grievous  com¬ 
plaint. 

W e  did  not  leave  all  the  nui¬ 
sances  behind  us  in  the  city. 

Cooley’s  dog  and  his  boy  are 
two  very  sore  afflictions  which 
make  life  even  here  very  much 
sadder  than  it  ought  to  be  in 
a  place  that  pretends  to  be  something  in  the  nature  of  an 


tu/>  •  I — I'i^f  I .. 


106 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


earthly  paradise.  The  boy  Dot  only  preys  upon  my  melon- 
patch  and  fruit  trees  and  upon  those  of  my  neighbors,  but  he 
has  an  extraordinary  aptitude  for  creating  a  disturbance  in 
whatever  spot  he  happens  to  be.  Only  last  Sunday  he  caused 
such  a  terrible  commotion  in  church  that  the  services  had 
to  be  suspended  for  several  minutes  until  he  could  be  re¬ 
moved.  The  interior  of  the  edifice  was  painted  and  varnished 
recently,  and  I  suppose  one  of  the  workmen  must  have  left 
a  clot  of  varnish  upon  the  back  of  Cooley’s  pew,  which  is 
directly  across  the  aisle  from  mine.  Cooley’s  boy  was  the 
only  representative  of  the  family  at  church  upon  that  day, 
and  he  amused  himself  during  the  earlier  portions  of  the 

service  by  kneeling  upon  the 
seat  and  communing  with  Dr. 
Jones’s  boy,  who  occupied  the 
pew  immediately  in  the  rear. 
Sometimes,  when  young  Cooley 
would  resume  a  proper  position, 
Jones’s  boy  would  stir  him  up 
afresh  by  slyly  pulling  his  hair, 
whereupon  Cooley  would  "wheel 
about  and  menace  Jones  with 
his  fist  in  a  manner  which  betrayed  utter  indifference  to  the 
proprieties  of  the  place  and  the  occasion,  as  well  as  to  the 
presence  of  the  congregation.  When  Cooley  finally  sank 
into  a  condition  of  repose,  he  placed  his  head,  most  unfortu¬ 
nately,  directly  against  the  lump  of  undried  varnish,  while 
he  amused  himself  by  reading  the  commandments  and  the 
other  scriptural  texts  upon  the  wall  behind  the  pulpit. 

In  a  few  moments  he  attempted  to  move,  but  the  varnish 
had  mingled  with  his  hair,  and  it  held  him  securely.  After 
making  one  or  two  desperate  but  ineffectual  efforts  to  release 
himself,  he  became  very  angry ;  and  supposing  that  Jones’s 
boy  was  holding  him,  he  shouted : 


A  DISTURBANCE  IN  CHURCH. 


107 


“  Leg  go  o’  ray  hair !  Leg  go  o’  my  hair,  I  tell  you  !” 

The  clergyman  paused  just  as  he  was  entering  upon  con¬ 
sideration  of  “  secondly,”  and  the  congregation  looked  around 
in  amazement,  in  time  to  perceive  young  Cooley,  with  his 
head  against  the  back  of  the  pew,  aiming  dreadful  blows 


over  his  shoulder  with  his  fist  at  some  unseen  person  behind 
him.  And  with  every  thrust  he  exclaimed  : 

“  I’ll  smash  yer  nose  after  church !  I’ll  go  for  you,  Bill 
Jones,  when  I  ketch  you  alone!  Leg  go  o’  my  hair, I  tell 
you,  or  I’ll  knock  the  stuffin’  out  o’  yer,”  etc.,  etc. 

Meanwhile,  Jones’s  boy  sat  up  at  the  very  end  of  his  pew, 
far  away  from  Cooley,  and  looked  as  solemn  as  if  the  ser- 
mon  had  made  a  deep  impression  upon  him. 
&f|!  Then  the  sexton  came  running  up,  with  the 
g|  idea  that  the  boy  had  fallen  asleep  and  had 
nightmare,  while  Mrs.  Dr.  Magruder  sallied 
out  from  her  pew  and  over  to  Cooley’s,  con¬ 
vinced  that  he  had  a  fit.  When  the  cause  of  the  disturb- 


108 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


ance  was  ascertained,  the  sexton  took  out  his  knife,  and  after 
sawing  off  enough  of  Cooley’s  hair  to  release  him,  dragged 
him  out  of  church.  The  victim  retreated  unwillingly, 


glancing  around  at  Jones’s  boy  and  shaking  his  fist  at  that 
urchin  as  if  to  indicate  that  he  cherished  a  deadly  purpose 
against  Jones. 

Then  the  sermon  proceeded.  I  suppose  a  contest  between 
the  two  boys  has  been  averted,  for  only  yesterday  I  saw 
Jones  and  Cooley,  the  younger,  playing  hop-scotch  together 
in  the  street  in  apparent  forgetfulness  of  the  sorrows  of  the 
sanctuary. 

Judge  Pitman  tells  me  that  one  of  the  reasons  why  Cooley 


KEEPING  STEP. 


109 


and  his  wife  disagree  is  that  there  is  such  a  difference  in  their 
height.  Cooley  is  tall,  and  Mrs.  Cooley  is  small.  Mrs. 
Cooley  told  Mrs.  Pitman,  if  /the  judge  is  to  be  believed,  that 
Cooley  continually  growled  because  she  could  not  keep  step 
with  him.  They  always  start  wrong,  somehow,  when  they 
go  out  together,  and  then,  while  he  tries  to  catch  step  with 
her,  she  endeavors  to  get  in  with  him.  After  both  have 
been  shuffling  about  over  the  pavement  for  several  minutes 
in  a  perfectly  absurd  manner,  they  go  ahead  out  of  step  just 
as  before. 

When  Cooley  tried  to  take  short  steps  like  hers,  his  gait 
was  so  ridiculous  as  to  excite  remark ;  while  if  she  tried  to 
make  such  long  strides  as 
his,  people  stopped  and 
looked  at  her  as  if  they 
thought  she  was  insane. 

Then  she  would  strive  to 
take  two  steps  to  his  one, 
but  she  found  that  two  and 
a  half  of  hers  were  equal  to 
one  of  his ;  and  when  she 
undertook  to  make  that  frac¬ 
tional  number  in  order  to 
keep  up  with  him,  he  would 
frown  at  her  and  say, 

“  Mrs.  Cooley,  if  you  are 
going  to  dance  the  polka  mazourka  upon  the  public  highway, 
I’m  going  home.” 

I  do  not  receive  this  statement  with  implicit  confidence  in 
its  truthfulness.  Pitman’s  imagination  sometimes  glows  with 
unnatural  heat,  and  he  may  have  embellished  the  original 
narrative  of.  Mrs.  Cooley. 

I  shall  probably  never  receive  from  any  member  of  the 
Cooley  family  a  correct  account  of  the  causes  of  the  un- 


110 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


pleasant  differences  existing  therein,  for  we  are  on  worse 

terms  than  ever  with  Cooley. 
His  dog  became  such  an  intol¬ 
erable  nuisance  because  of  his 
nocturnal  vociferation  that  some 
practical  humanitarian  in  the 
neighborhood  poisoned  h  i  m. 
Cooley  apparently  cherished 
the  conviction  that  I  had  kill¬ 
ed  the  animal,  and  he  flung  the 
carcass  over  the  fence  into  my 
yard.  I  threw  it  back.  Cooley  returned  it.  Both  of  us 
remained  at  home  that  day,  and  spent  the  morning  handing 
the  inanimate  brute  to  each  other  across  the  fence.  At  noon 


I  called  my  man  to  take  my  place,  and  Cooley  hired  a 
colored  person  to  relieve  him.  They  kept  it  up  until  night¬ 
fall,  by  which  time  I  suppose  the  corpse  must  have  worn 
away  to  a  great  extent,  for  at  sundowm  my  man  buried  the 


A  FAITHFUL  ANIMAL. 


Ill 


tail  by  my  rose-bush  and  came  in  the  house,  while  Cooley’s 
representative  resigned  and  went  home. 

The  departed  brute  left  behind  him  but  one 
pleasant  recollection ;  and  when  I  recall  it,  I 
feel  that  he  fully  avenged  my  wTrongs  upon  his 
master.  Cooley  went  out  a  week  or  two  ago 
to  swim  in  the  creek,  and  he  took  the  dog  with 
him  to  watch  his  clothing.  While  Cooley 
bathed  the  dog  slept ;  but  when  Cooley  emerged  from  the 
water,  the  dog  did  not  recognize  him  in  his  nude  condition, 
and  it  refused  to  let  him  come  near  his  garments.  Whenever 
Cooley  would  attempt  to  seize  a  hoot  or  a  stocking  or  a  shirt, 


the  dog  flew  at  him  with  such  ferocity  that  he  dared  not  at¬ 
tempt  to  dress  himself.  So  he  stood  in  the  sun  until  he  was 
almost  broiled ;  then  he  went  into  the  water  and  remained 
there,  dodging  up  and  down  for  the  purpose  of  avoiding  the 
people  who  passed  occasionally  along  the  road.  At  last  the 
dog  went  to  sleep  again,  and  Cooley,  creeping  softly  behind  the 


112 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY, . 


brute,  caught  it  suddenly  by  the  tail  and  flung  it  across  the 
stream.  Before  the  dog  could  recover  its  senses  and  swim 
back,  Cooley  succeeded  in  getting  some  of  his  clothing  on  him, 
and  then  the  dog  came  sidling  up  to  him  looking  as  if  it  ex¬ 
pected  to  be  rewarded  for  its  extraordinary  vigilance.  The 

manner  in  which 
Cooley  kicked  the 
faithful  animal  is 
said  to  have  been 
simply  dreadful. 

I  should  have 
entertained  a  posi¬ 
tive  affection  for 
that  dog  if  it  had 
not  barked  at  night. 
But  I  am  glad  it  is  gone.  We  came  here  to  have  quietness, 
and  that  was  unattainable  while  Cooley’s  dog  remained 
within  view  of  the  moon. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


The  Morning  Argus  Creates  a  Sensation — A  New  Editor; 
Mr.  Slimmer  the  Poet — An  Obituary  Department — 
Mr.  Slimmer  on  Death — Extraordinary  Scene  in  the 
Sanctum  of  Colonel  Bangs — Indignant  Advertisers — 
The  Colonel  Violently  Assailed — Observations  of  the 
Poet — The  Final  Catastrophe — Mysterious  Conduct  of 
Bob  Parker — The  Accident  on  Magiiuder’s  Porch — Mrs. 
Adeler  on  the  Subject  of  Obituary  Poetry  in  General. 

gBf  RATHER  unusual  sen- 
W\  sation  has  been  excited 
in  the  village  by  the 
-  Morning  Argus  within 
a  day  or  two ;  and  while  most 
of  the  readers  of  that  wonder¬ 
ful  sheet  have  thus  been  sup¬ 
plied  with  amusement,  the 
soul  of  the  editor  has  been 
filled  with  gloom  and  wrath 
and  despair.  Colonel  Bangs 
recently  determined  to  engage 
an  assistant  to  take  the  place 
made  vacant  by  the  retirement  of  the  eminent  art-critic,  Mr. 
Murphy,  and  he  found  in  one  of  the  lower  counties  of  the 
State  a  person  who  appeared  to  him  to  be  suitable.  The 
name  of  the  new  man  is  Slimmer.  He  has  often  contributed 
to  the  Argus  verses  of  a  distressing  character,  and  I  suppose 
Bangs  must  have  become  acquainted  with  him  through  the 
medium  of  the  correspondence  thus  begun.  No  one  in  the 

113 


114 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


world  but  Bangs  would  ever  have  selected  such  a  poet  for 
an  editorial  position.  But  Bangs  is  singular — he  is  excep¬ 
tional.  He  never  operates  in  accordance  with 
any  known  laws,  and  he  is  more  than  likely  to 
do  any  given  thing  in  such  a  fashion  as  no  other 
person  could  possibly  have  adopted  for  the  pur¬ 
pose.  As  the  Argus  is  also  sui  generis ,  perhaps 
Bangs  does  right  to  conduct  it  in  a  peculiar 
manner.  But  he  made  a  mistake  when  he 
employed  Mr.  Slimmer. 

The  colonel,  in  his  own  small  way,  is  tolera¬ 
bly  shrewd.  He  had  observed  the  disposition 
of  persons  who  have  been  bereaved  of  their 
relatives  to  give  expression  to  their  feelings  in 
verse,  and  it  occurred  to  him  that  it  might  be 
profitable  to  use  Slimmer’s  poetical  talent  in 
such  a  way  as  to  make  the  Argus  a  very 
popular  vehicle  for  the  conveyance  to  the 
public  of  notices  of  deaths.  That  kind  of  in¬ 
telligence,  he  well  knew,  is  especially  interesting  to  a  very 
large  class  of  readers,  and  he  believed  that  if  he  could  offer 
to  each  advertiser  a  gratuitous  verse  to  accompany  the  obit¬ 
uary  paragraph,  the  Argus  would  not  only  attract  advertise¬ 
ments  of  that  description  from  the  country  round  about  the 
village,  but  it  would  secure  a  much  larger  circulation. 

When  Mr.  Slimmer  arrived,  therefore,  and  entered  upon 
the  performance  of  his  duties,  Colonel  Bangs  explained  his 
theory  to  the  poet,  and  suggested  that  whenever  a  death- 
notice  reached  the  office,  he  should  immediately  write  a 
rhyme  or  two  which  should  express  the  sentiments  most 
suitable  to  the  occasion. 

“  You  understand,  Mr.  Slimmer,”  said  the  colonel,  “that 
when  the  death  of  an  individual  is  announced  I  want  you, 
as  it  were,  to  cheer  the  members  of  the  afflicted  family  with 


INSTRUCTING  THE  POET \ 


115 


the  resources  of  your  noble  art.  I  wish  you  to  throw  your¬ 
self,  you  may  say,  into  their  situation,  and  to  give  them,  f’r 
instance,  a  few  lines  about  the  deceased  which  will  seem  to 
be  the  expression  of  the  emotion  which  agitates  the  breasts 
of  the  bereaved.” 

“  To  lighten  the  gloom  in  a  certain  sense,”  said  Mr.  Slim¬ 
mer,  “  and  to — ” 

“  Precisely,”  exclaimed  Colonel  Bangs.  “  Lighten  the 


gloom.  Do  not  mourn  over  the  departed,  but  rather  take 
a  joyous  view  of  death,  which,  after  all,  Mr.  Slimmer,  is,  as 
it  were,  but  the  entrance  to  a  better  life.  Therefore,  I  wish 
you  to  touch  the  heart-strings  of  the  afflicted  with  a  tender 
hand,  and  to  endeavor,  f 'r  instance,  to  divert  their  minds  from 
contemplation  of  the  horrors  of  the  tomb.” 

“  Refrain  from  despondency,  I  suppose,  and  lift  their 
thoughts  to — ” 

“  Just  so !  And  at  the  same  time  combine  elevating  sen¬ 
timent  with  such  practical  information  as  you  can  obtain 


116 


OUT  OF  THE  TIURLY-BUELY. 


from  the  advertisement.  Throw  a  glamour  of  poesy,  f’r  in¬ 
stance,  over  the  commonplace  details  of  the  every-day  life 
of  the  deceased.  People  are  fond  of  minute  descriptions. 
Some  facts  useful  for  this  purpose  may  be  obtained  from  the 
man  who  brings  the  notice  to  the  office;  others  you  may 
perhaps  be  able  to  supply  from  your  imagination.” 

“  I  think  1  can  do  it  first  rate,”  said  Mr.  Slimmer. 

“  But,  above  all,”  continued  the  colonel,  “  try  always  to 
take  a  bright  view  of  the  matter.  Cause  the  sunshine  of 
smiles,  as  it  were,  to  burst  through  the  tempest  of  tears; 
and  if  we  don’t  make  the  Morning  Argus  hum  around  this 
town,  it  will  be  queer.” 

Mr.  Slimmer  had  charge  of  the  editorial  department  the 
next  day  during  the  absence  of  Colonel  Bangs  in  Wilming¬ 
ton.  Throughout  the  afternoon 
and  evening  death  -  notices  ar¬ 
rived  ;  and  when  one  would 
reach  Mr.  Slimmer’s  desk,  he 
would  lock  the  door,  place  the 
fingers  of  his  left  hand  among 
his  hair  and  agonize  until  he 
succeeded  in  completing  a  verse 
that  seemed  to  him  to  accord 
with  his  instructions. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Slimmer  proceeded  calmly  to  the 
office  for  the  purpose  of  embalming  in  sympathetic  verse  the 
memories  of  other  departed  ones.  As  he  came  near  to  the 
establishment  he  o'bserved  a  crowd  of  people  in  front  of  it, 
struggling  to  get  into  the  door.  Ascending  some  steps  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  street,  he  overlooked  the  crowd,  and 
could  see  within  the  office  the  clerks  selling  papers  as  fast 
as  they  could  handle  them,  while  the  mob  pushed  and  yelled 
in  frantic  efforts  to  obtain  copies,  the  presses  in  the  cellar 
meanwhile  clanging  furiously.  Standing  upon  the  curbstone 


TROUBLE  IN  THE  SANCTUM. 


117 


in  front  of  the  office  there  was  a  long  row  of  men,  each  of 
whom  was  engaged  in  reading  The  Morning  Argus  with  an 


earnestness  that  Mr.  Slimmer  had  never  before  seen  dis¬ 
played  by  the  patrons  of  that  sheet.  The  bard  concluded 
that  either  his  poetry  had  touched  a  sympathetic  chord  in 
the  popular  heart,  or  that  an  appalling  dis¬ 
aster  had  occurred  in  some  quarter  of  the 
globe. 

He  went  around  to  the  back  of  the  office 
and  ascended  to  the  editorial  rooms.  As  he 
approached  the  sanctum,  loud  voices  were 
heard  within.  Mr.  Slimmer  determined  to 
ascertain  the  cause  before  entering.  He  ob¬ 
tained  a  chair,  and  placing  it  by  the  side 
door,  he  mounted  and  peeped  over  the  door 
through  the  transom.  There  sat  Colonel 
Bangs,  holding  The  Morning  Argus  in  both 
hands,  while  the  fringe  which  grew  in  a 
semicircle  around  the  edge  of  his  bald  head 
stood  straight  out,  until  he  seemed  to  re¬ 
semble  a  gigantic  gun-swab.  Two  or  three 
persons  stood  in  front  of  him  in  threatening 
attitudes.  Slimmer  heard  one  of  them  say: 

“My  name  is  McGlue,  sir! — William  Mc- 

Glue!  I  am  a  brother  of  the  late  Alexander  McGlue.  I 

picked  up  your  paper  this  morning,  and  perceived  in  it  an 

outrageous  insult  to  my  deceased  relative,  and  I  have  come 
10 


118 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


around  to  demand,  sir,  what  you  mean  by  the  following 
infamous  language : 


“‘The  death-angel  smote  Alexander  McGlue, 

And  gave  him  protracted  repose; 

He  wore  a  checked  shirt  and  a  Number  Nine  slioe, 

And  he  had  a  pink  wart  on  his  nose. 

No  doubt  he  is  happier  dwelling  in  space 
Over  there  on  the  evergreen  shore. 

His  friends  are  informed  that  his  funeral  takes  place 
Precisely  at  quarter-past  four/ 

“  This  is  simply  diabolical !  My  late  brother  had  no  wart 
on  his  nose,  sir.  He  had  upon  his  nose  neither  a  pink  wart 
nor  a  green  wart,  nor  a  cream-colored  wart,  nor  a  wart  of 
any  other  color.  It  is  a  slander  !  It  is  a  gratuitous  insult 
to  my  family,  and  I  distinctly  want  you  to  say  what  do  you 
mean  by  such  conduct?” 

“Keally,  sir,”  said  Bangs,  “  it  is  a  mistake.  This  is  the 
horrible  work  of  a  miscreant  in  whom  I  reposed  perfect  con- 


IN  RELATION  TO  WILLIAM. 


119 


fidence.  He  shall  be  punished  by  my  own  hand  for  this 
outrage.  A  pink  wart !  Awful !  sir — awful !  The  miser¬ 
able  scoundrel  shall  suffer  for  this — he  shall,  indeed !” 

“  How  could  I  know,”  murmured  Mr.  Slimmer  to  the 
foreman,  who  with  him  was  listening,  “  that  the  corpse 
hadn’t  a  pink  wart  ?  I  used  to  know  a  man  named  McGlue, 
and  he  had  one,  and  I  thought  all  the  McGlues  had.  This 
comes  of  irregularities  in  families.” 

“And  who,”  said  another  man,  addressing  the  editor, 
“authorized  you  to  print  this  hideous  stuff  about  my  de¬ 
ceased  son  ?  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Bangs,  that  it  was  not 
with  your  authority  that  your  low  comedian  inserted  with 
my  advertisement  the  following  scandalous  burlesque? 
Listen  to  this : 

“  ‘  Willie  had  a  purple  monkey  climbing  on  a  yellow  stick, 

And  when  he  sucked  the  paint  all  off  it  made  him 
deathly  sick ; 

And  in  his  latest  hours  he  clasped  that  monkey  in 
his  hand, 

And  bade  good-bye  to  earth  and  went  into  a  better 
land. 

“  ‘  Oh !  no  more  he’ll  shoot  his  sister  with  his  little  wooden  gun  ; 

And  no  more  he’ll  twist  the  pussy’s  tail  and  make  her  yowl,  for  fun. 

The  pussy’s  tail  now  stands  out  straight;  the  gun  is  laid  aside; 

The  monkey  doesn’t  jump  around  since  little  Willie  died.’ 

“  The  atrocious  character  of  this  libel  will  appear  when  I 
say  that  my  son  was  twenty  years  old,  and  that  he  died  of 
liver  complaint.” 

“  Infamous ! — utterly  infamous !”  groaned  the  editor  as 
he  cast  his  eyes  over  the  lines.  “  And  the  wretch  who  did 
this  still  remains  unpunished !  It  is  too  much !” 

“And  yet,”  whispered  Slimmer  to  the  foreman,  “he  told 
me  to  lighten  the  gloom  and  to  cheer  the  afflicted  family 


120 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


with  the  resources  of  my  art ;  and  I  certainly  thought  that 
idea  about  the  monkey  would  have  that  effect,  somehow. 
Bangs  is  ungrateful !” 

Just  then  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  woman 
entered,  crying. 

“  Are  you  the  editor  ?”  she  inquired  of  Colonel  Bangs. 
Bangs  said  he  was. 


“  W-w-well !”  she  said,  in  a  voice  broken  by  sobs,  “  wh- 
what  d’you  mean  by  publishing  this  kind  of  poetry  about 
m-my  child?  M-my  name  is  Sm-Smith;  and  wh-when  I 
looked  this  m-morning  for  the  notice  of  Johnny’s  d-death  in 
your  paper,  I  saw  this  scandalous  verse: 

“  1  Four  doctors  tackled  Johnny  Smith — 

They  blistered  and  they  bled  him  ; 

With  squills  and  anti-bilious  pills 
And  ipecac,  they  fed  him. 

They  stirred  him  up  with  calomel, 

And  tried  to  move  his  liver ; 

But  all  in  vain — his  little  soul 
Was  wafted  o’er  The  River.’ 

“It’s  false!  false!  and  mean!  Johnny  only  had  one  doc¬ 
tor.  And  they  d-didn’t  bl-bleed  him  and  b-blister  him. 


THE  SHERIFF'S  SUFFERING. 


121 


It’s  a  wicked  falsehood,  and  you’re  a  hard-hearted  brute  f-f- 
for  printing  it!” 

“  Madam,  I  shall  go  crazy !”  exclaimed  Bangs.  “  This  is 
not  my  work.  It  is  the  work  of  a  villain  whom  I  will  slay 
with  my  own  hand  as  soon  as  he  comes  in.  Madam,  the 
miserable  outcast  shall  die !” 

“Strange!  strange!”  said  Slimmer.  “And  this  man  told 
me  to  combine  elevating  sentiment  with  practical  informa¬ 
tion.  If  the  information  concerning  the  squills  and  ipecac, 
is  not  practical,  I  have  misunderstood  the  use  of  that  word. 
And  if  young  Smith  didn’t  have  four  doctors,  it  was  an  out¬ 
rage.  He  ought  to  have  had  them,  and  they  ought  to  have 
excited  his  liver.  Thus  it  is  that  human  life  is  sacrificed  to 
carelessness.” 

At  this  juncture  the  sheriff  entered,  his  brow  clothed  with 
thunder.  He  had  a  copy  of  The  Morning  Argus  in  his 
hand.  He  approached  the  editor,  and  pointing  to  a  death- 
notice,  said, 

“  Read  that  outrageous  burlesque,  and  tell  me  the  name 
of  the  writer,  so  that  I  can  chastise  him.” 

The  editor  read  as  follows: 

“  We  have  lost  our  little  Hanner  in  a  very  painful  manner, 

And  we  often  asked,  How  can  her  harsh  sufferings  be  borne? 

When  her  death  was  first  reported,  her  aunt  got  up  and  snorted 
With  the  grief  that  she  supported,  for  it  made  her  feel  forlorn. 

“  She  was  such  a  little  seraph  that  her  father,  who  is  sheriff, 

Really  doesn’t  seem  to  care  if  he  ne’er  smiles  in  life  again. 

She  has  gone,  we  hope,  to  heaven,  at  the  early  age  of  seven 

(Funeral  starts  off  at  eleven),  where  she’ll  nevermore  have  pain." 

“As  a  consequence  of  this,  I  withdraw  all  the  county 
advertising  from  your  paper.  A  man  who  could  trifle  in 
this  manner  with  the  feelings  of  a  parent  is  a  savage  and  a 
scoundrel !” 

10* 


122 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


As  the  sheriff  went  out,  Colonel  Bangs  placed  his  head 
upon  the  table  and  groaned. 

“  Really,”  Mr.  Slimmer  said,  “  that  person  must  be  de¬ 
ranged.  I  tried,  in  his  case,  to  put  myself  in  his  place,  and 
to  write  as  if  I  was  one  of  the  family,  according  to  instruc¬ 
tions.  The  verses  are  beautiful.  That  allusion  to  the  grief 
of  the  aunt,  particularly,  seemed  to  me  to  be  very  happy. 
It  expresses  violent  emotion  with  a  felicitous  combination  of 
sweetness  and  force.  These  people  have  no  soul — no  appre¬ 
ciation  of  the  beautiful  in  art.” 

While  the  poet  mused,  hurried  steps  wTere  heard  upon  the 
stairs,  and  in  a  moment  a  middle-aged  man  dashed  in 


abruptly,  and  seizing  the  colonel’s  scattered  hair,  bumped 
his  prostrate  head  against  the  table  three  or  four  times  with 
considerable  force.  Having  expended  the  violence  of  his 
emotion  in  this  manner,  he  held  the  editor’s  head  down  with 
one  hand,  shaking  it  occasionally  by  way  of  emphasis,  and 
with  the  other  hand  seized  the  paper  and  said, 


BARTHOLOMEW'S  GRAVE. 


123 


“You  disgraceful  old  reprobate!  You  disgusting  vam¬ 
pire!  You  hoary-headed  old  ghoul !  What  d’you  mean  by 
putting  such  stuff  as  this  in  your  paper  about  my  deceased 
son  ?  What  d’you  mean  by  printing  such  awful  doggerel  as 
this,  you  depraved  and  dissolute  ink-slinger — you  imbecile 
quill-driver,  you ! 

“  ‘  Oh  !  bury  Bartholomew  out  in  the  woods, 

In  a  beautiful  hole  in  the  ground, 

Where  the  bumble-bees  buzz  and  the  woodpeckers  sing, 

And  the  straddle-bugs  tumble  around  ; 

So  that,  in  winter,  when  the  snow  and  the  slush 
Have  covered  his  last  little  bed, 

His  brother  Artemas  can  go  out  with  Jane 
And  visit  the  place  with  his  sled.’ 

“  I’ll  teach  you  to  talk  about  straddle-bugs !  I’ll  instruct 
you  about  slush !  I’ll  enlighten  your  insane  old  intellect  on 
the  subject  of  singing  woodpeckers !  What  do  you  know 
about  Jane  and  Artemas,  you  wretched  buccaneer,  you  des¬ 
picable  butcher  of  the  English  language?  Go  out  with  a 
sled  !  I’ll  carry  you  out  in  a  hearse  before  I’m  done  with 
you,  you  deplorable  lunatic !” 

At  the  end  of  every  phrase  the  visitor  gave  the  editor’s 
head  a  fresh  knock  against  the  table.  When  the  exercise 
was  ended,  Colonel  Bangs  explained  and  apologized  in  the 
humblest  manner,  promising  at  the  same  time  to  give  his 
assailant  a  chance  to  flog  Mr.  Slimmer,  who  was  expected  to 
arrive  in  a  few  moments. 

“  The  treachery  of  this  man,”  murmured  the  poet  to  the 
foreman,  “is  dreadful.  Didn’t  he  desire  me  to  throw  a 
glamour  of  poesy  over  commonplace  details  ?  But  for  that 
I  should  never  have  thought  of  alluding  to  woodpeckers  and 
bugs,  and  other  children  of  Nature.  The  man  objects  to 
the  remarks  about  the  sled.  Can  the  idiot  know  that  it  was 
necessary  to  have  a  rhyme  for  1  bed  ’  ?  Can  he  suppose  that 


124 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


I  could  write  poetry  without  rhymes  ?  The  man  is  a  lunatic! 
He  ought  not  to  be  at  large !” 

Hardly  had  the  indignant  and  energetic  parent  of  Barthol¬ 
omew  departed  when  a  man  with  red  hair  and  a  ferocious 

glare  in  his  eyes  entered, 
carrying  a  club  and  accom¬ 
panied  by  a  savage-looking 
dog. 

“  I  want  to  see  the  editor,” 
he  shouted. 

A  ghastly  pallor  over¬ 
spread  the  colonel’s  face, 
and  he  said, 

“  The  editor  is  not  in.” 
“Well,  when  will  he  be 
in,  then?” 

“Not  for  a  week — for  a 
mont h — f o r  a  year — f o r 
ever !  He  will  never  come 
in  any  more !”  screamed  Bangs.  “  He  has  gone  to  South 
America,  with  the  intention  to  remain  there  during  the  rest 
of  his  life.  He  has  departed.  He  has  fled.  If  you  want 
to  see  him,  you  had  better  follow  him  to  the  equator.  He 
will  be  glad  to  see  you.  I  would  advise  you,  as  a  friend,  to 
take  the  next  boat — to  start  at  once.” 

“  That  is  unfortunate,”  said  the  man ;  “  I  came  all  the 
way  from  Delaware  City  for  the  purpose  of  battering  him 
Up  a  lot  with  this  club.” 

“  He  will  be  sorry,”  said  Bangs,  sarcastically.  “  He  will 
regret  missing  you.  I  will  write  to  him,  and  mention  that 
you  dropped  in. 

“My  name  is  McFadden,”  said  the  man.  “I  came  to 
break  the  head  of  the  man  who  wrote  that  obituary  poetry 
about  my  wife.  If  you  don’t  tell  me  who  perpetrated  the 


THE  POET  FLIES. 


125 


following,  I’ll  break  yours  for  you.  Where’s  the  man  who 
wrote  this  ?  Pay  attention : 

“  *  Mrs.  McFadden  has  gone  from  this  life; 

She  has  left  all  its  sorrows  and  cares ; 

She  caught  the  rheumatics  in  both  of  her  legs 
While  scrubbing  the  cellar  and  stairs. 

They  put  mustard- plasters  upon  her  in  vain; 

They  bathed  her  with  whisky  and  rum ; 

But  Thursday  her  spirit  departed,  and  left 
Her  body  entirely  numb.’  ” 

“The  man  who  held  the  late  Mrs.  McFadden  up  to  the 
scorn  of  an  unsympathetic  world  in  that  shocking  manner,” 
said  the  editor,  “  is  named  James  B.  Slimmer.  He  boards 
in  Blank  street,  fourth  door  from  the  corner.  I  would  advise 
you  to  call  on  him  and  avenge  Mrs.  McFadden’s  wrongs 
with  an  intermixture  of  club  and  dog-bites.” 

“  And  this,”  sighed  the  poet,  outside  the  door,  “  is  the  man 
who  told  me  to  divert  McFadden’s  mind  from  contemplation 
of  the  horrors  of  the  tomb.  It  was  this  monster  who  coun¬ 
seled  me  to  make  the  sunshine  of  McFadden’s  smiles  burst 
through  the  tempest  of  McFadden’s  tears.  If  that  red¬ 
headed  monster  couldn’t  smile  over  that  allusion  to  whisky 
and  rum,  if  those  remarks  about  the  rheumatism  in  her  legs 
could  not  divert  his  mind  from  the  horrors  of  the  tomb, 
was  it  my  fault ?  McFadden  grovels!  He  knows  no  more 
about  poetry  than  a  mule  knows  about  the  Shorter  Cate¬ 
chism.” 

The  poet  determined  to  leave  before  any  more  criticisms 
were  made  upon  his  performances.  He  jumped  down  from 
his  chair  and  crept  softly  toward  the  back  staircase. 

The  story  told  by  the  foreman  relates  that  Colonel  Bangs 
at  the  same  instant  resolved  to  escape  any  further  persecu¬ 
tion,  and  he  moved  off  in  the  direction  taken  by  the  poet. 
The  two  met  upon  the  landing,  and  the  colonel  was  about 


126 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


to  begin  his  quarrel  with  Slimmer,  when  an  enraged  old 
woman  who  had  been  groping  her  way  up  stairs  suddenly 


plunged  her  umbrella  at  Bangs, 
and  held  him  in  the  corner  while 
she  handed  a  copy  of  the  Argus 
to  Slimmer,  and  pointing  to  a 
certain  stanza,  asked  him  to 
read  it  aloud.  He  did  so  in  a 
somewhat  tremulous  voice  and 
with  frightened  glances  at  the 
enraged  colonel.  The  verse 
was  as  follows : 


“  Little  Alexander’s  dead  ; 

Jam  him  in  a  coffin  ; 

Don’t  have  as  good  a  chance 
For  a  fun’ral  often. 

Rush  his  body  right  around 
To  the  cemetery ; 

Drop  him  in  the  sepulchre 
With  his  Uncle  Jerry.” 

The  colonel’s  assailant  accompanied  the  recitation  with 
such  energetic  remarks  as  these : 

“  Oh,  you  willin !  D’you  hear  that,  you  wretch  ?  What 
d’you  mean  by  writin’  of  my  grandson  in  that  way  ?  Take 
that,  you  serpint !  Oh,  you  wiper,  you !  try  in’  to  break  a 
lone  widder’s  heart  with  such  scand’lus  lies  as  them !  There, 
you  willin!  I  kemmere  to  hammer  you  well  with  this  here 
umbreller,  you  owdacious  wiper,  you !  Take  that,  and  that, 
you  wile,  indecent,  disgustin’  wagabone!  When  you  know 
well  enough  that  Aleck  never  had  no  Uncle  Jerry,  and 
never  had  no  uncle  in  no  sepulchre  anyhow,  you  wile  wretch, 
you!” 

When  Mr.  Slimmer  had  concluded  his  portion  of  the  en¬ 
tertainment,  he  left  the  colonel  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy 


KEEPING  LATE  HOURS. 


127 


and  fled.  He  has  not  been  seen  in  New  Castle  since  that 
day,  and  it  is  supposed  that  he  has  returned  to  Sussex  county 
for  the  purpose  of  continuing  in  private  his  dalliance  with 
the  Muses.  Colonel  Bangs  appears  to  have  abandoned  the 
idea  of  establishing  a  department  of  obituary  poetry,  and 
the  Argus  has  resumed  its  accustomed  aspect  of  dreariness. 


It  may  fairly  boast,  however,  that  once  during  its  carefef 
it  has  produced  a  profound  impression  upon  the  community. 

Mr.  Bob  Parker  came  home  at  a  very  late  hour  last  night ; 
and  when  I  opened  the  front  door  to  let  him  in,  he  muttered 
something  to  the  effect  that  he  was  “sorry  for  being  out  so 
late.”  Then  he  pushed  by  me  suddenly  and  went  up  stairs 


128 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


in  a  very  odd  fashion,  keeping  his  face  as  much  as  possible 
toward  the  door,  where  I  remained  standing,  astonished  at 

his  very  strange  behavior. 
When  I  closed  the  door 
and  went  to  my  room,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  some- 
thing  of  a  serious  nature 

and  partly  by  a  desire  to  be 
of  service,  I  knocked  at 
Bob’s  door. 

“Anything  the  matter?” 


“  Oh  no.  I  was  detained 
down  town,”  replied  Bob. 

“  I  can’t  do  anything  for 
you,  then?” 

“  No ;  I’ll  be  in  bed  in  a  couple  of  minutes.” 

“You  acted  so  peculiarly  when  you  came  in  that  I 
thought  you  might  be  ill.” 

“  I  was  never  better  in  my  life.  I  went  lip  stairs  that  way 
because  I  was  tired.” 

“  A  very  extraordinary  effect  of  fatigue,”  I  said. 

“I  say!”  cried  Bob,  “don’t  say  anything  to  your  wife 
about  it.  There’s  no  use  of  getting  up  an  excitement  about 
nothing.” 

I  went  to  bed  convinced  that  something  was  wrong,  and 
determined  to  compel  Bob  to  confess  on  the  morrow  what  it 
was.  After  breakfast  we  sat  smoking  together  on  the  porch, 
and  then  I  remarked : 

“  Bob,  I  wish  you  to  tell  me  plainly  what  you  meant  by 
that  extraordinary  caper  on  the  stairs  last  night.  I  think  I 
ought  to  know.  I  don’t  want  to  meddle  with  your  private 


might  have  happened  ;  and 
impelled  partly  by  curiosity 


WHY  HE  STAYED. 


129 


affairs,  but  it  seems  to  me  only  the  proper  thing  for  you  to 
give  me  a  chance  to  advise  you  if  you  are  in  trouble  of  any 
kind.  And  then  you  know  I  am  occupying  just  now  a  sort 
of  a  parental  relation  to  you,  and  I  want  to  overhaul  you  if 
you  have  been  doing  anything  wrong.” 

“  I  don’t  mind  explaining  the  matter  to  you,”  replied  Bob. 
“  It  don’t  amount  to  much,  anyhow,  but  it’s  a  little  rough 
on  a  fellow,  and  I’d  rather  not  have  the  whole  town  discuss¬ 
ing  it.” 

“  Well?” 

“You  know  old  Magruder’s?  Well,  I  went  around  there 
last  night  to  see  Bessie ;  and  as  it  was  a  pleasant  evening,  we 
thought  we  would  remain  out  on  the  porch.  She  sat  in  a 
chair  near  the  edge,  and  I  placed  myself  at  her  feet  on  one 
of  the  low  wooden  steps  in  front.  We  stayed  there  talking 
about  various  things  and  having  a  pretty  fair  time,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  until  about  nine  o’clock,  when  I  said  I 
thought  I’d  have  to  go.” 

“You  came  home  later,  I  think.” 

“  Well,  you  know,  some  mutton-headed  carpenter  had 
been  there  during  the  day  mending  the  rustic  chairs  on  the 
porch,  and  he  must  have  put  his  glue-pot  down  on  the  spot 
where  I  sat,  for  when  I  tried  to  rise  I  found  I  couldn’t  budge.” 

“You  and  Cooley’s  boy  seem  to  have  a  fondness  for  that 
particular  kind  of  adventure.” 

“  Just  so.  And  when  I  made  an  effort  to  get  upon  my 
feet,  Bessie  said,  ‘  Don’t  be  in  a  hurry ;  it’s  early  yet,’  and  I 
told  her  I  believed  I  would  stay  a  little  while  longer.  So  I 
sat  there  for  about  two  hours,  and  during  the  frightful  gaps 
in  the  conversation  I  busied  myself  thinking  how  I  could 
get  away  -without  appearing  ridiculous.  It  hurts  a  man’s 
chances  if  he  makes  himself  ridiculous  before  a  woman  he  is 
fond  of.  So  you  see  I  didn’t  know  whether  to  ask  Bessie  to 
go  in  the  house  while  I  partially  disrobed  and  went  home  in 


130 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Highland  costume,  or  whether  to  give  one  terrific  wrench 

and  then  proceed  down  the 
yard  backward.  I  couldn’t 
make  up  my  mind ;  and  as 
midnight  approached,  Bessie, 
who  was  dreadfully  sleepy,  said, 
at  last,  in  utter  despair,  she 
would  have  to  excuse  herself 
for  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

“  Then,  you  understand,  I 
was  nearly  frantic,  and  I  asked 
her  suddenly  if  she  thought  her  father  would  lend  me 


his  front  steps  for  a  few  days.  She  looked  sort  of  scared. 


SAWED  OUT. 


131 


and  went  in  after  old  Magruder.  When  he  came  out,  I 
made  him  stoop  down  while  I  explained  the  situation  to 
him.  He  laughed  and 
hunted  up  a  hatchet  and 
saw,  and  cut  away  the  sur¬ 
rounding  timber,  so  that  I 
came  home  with  only  about 
a  square  foot  of  wood  on 
my  trousers.  Very  good  of 
the  old  man,  wasn’t  it,  to 
smash  up  his  steps  in  that 
manner?  And  the  reason 
why  I  kind  of  sidled  up 
stairs  was  that  I  feared 
you’d  see  that  wooden 
patch  and  want  to  know 
about  it.  That’s  all.  Queer 
sort  of  an  affair,  wasn’t  it?” 

Then  Mr.  Parker  darted  off  for  the  purpose  of  overtaking 
Miss  Magruder,  who  at  that  moment  happened  to  pass  upon 
the  other  side  of  the  street. 

As  Mr.  Parker  disappeared,  Mrs.  Adeler  came  out  upon 
the  porch  from  the  hall,  and  placing  her  hand  upon  my 
shoulder,  said, 

“  You  are  not  going  to  publish  that  story  of  the  attempt 
of  the  Argus  to  establish  a  department  of  obituary  poetry, 
are  you  ?” 

“  Of  course  I  am.  Why  shouldn’t  I  ?” 

“Don’t  you  fear  it  might  perhaps  give  offence?  There 
are  some  people,  you  know,  who  think  it  right  to  accompany 
a  notice  of  death  wTith  verses.  Besides,  does  it  seem  pre¬ 
cisely  proper  to  treat  such  a  solemn  subject  as  death  with 
so  much  levity  ?” 


132 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  My  dear,  the  persons  who  use  those  ridiculous  rhymes 
which  sometimes  appear  in  the  papers  for  the  purpose  of 


parading  their  grief  before  the  public  cannot  have  very  nice 
sensibilities.” 

“  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  At  any  rate,  is  it  not  possible  • 
that  a  verse  which  appears  to  you  and  me  very  silly  may 
be  the  attempt  of  some  bereaved  mother  to  give  in  that 
forlorn  fashion  expression  to  her  great  agony?  I  shouldn’t 
like  to  ridicule  even  so  wretched  a  cry  from  a  suffering 
heart.” 

“The  suggestion  is  creditable  to  your  goodness.  But  I 
would  like  to  retain  the  story  of  Slimmer’s  folly,  and  I’ll 


MRS.  AD E LEES  VIEWS. 


133 


tell  you  what  I  will  do :  I  will  publish  your  opinions  upon 
the  subject,  so  that  those  who  read  the  narrative  may  un¬ 
derstand  that  the  family  of  Adeler  is  not  wholly  careless  of 
propriety.”  So  here  are  the  story  and  the  protest;  and 
those  to  whom  the  former  is  offensive  may  find  what  conso¬ 
lation  can  be  obtained  from  the  fact  that  the  latter  has  been 
offered  in  advance  of  any  expression  of  opinion  by  indignant 
readers  whose  grief  for  the  departed  tends  to  run  into  rhyme. 


li  * 


4 


f 


CHAPTER  IX. 

The  Reason  why  I  Purchased  a  Horse — A  Peculiar  Cha¬ 
racteristic — Driving  by  the  River — Our  Horse  as  a 
Persecutor — He  Becomes  a  Genuine  Nightmare — Ex¬ 
perimenting  with  his  Tail — How  our  Horse  Died — 
In  Relation  to  Pirates — Mrs.  Jones’s  Bold  Corsair— A 
Lamentable  Tale. 


T  is  probable  that  I  should 
never  have  bought  a  horse  if 
I  had  not  been  strongly  urged 
to  do  so  by  other  persons.  I 
do  not  care  a  great  deal  for 
riding  and  driving;  and 
if  it  ever  did  occur  to  me 
that  it  would,  perhaps,  be 
a  nice  thing  to  have  a 
horse  of  my  own,  I  regard¬ 
ed  the  necessary  expense 
as  much  too  great  for  the 
small  amount  of  enjoy¬ 
ment  that  could  be  ob¬ 
tained  from  the  invest¬ 
ment.  It  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  much  cheaper  to  hire 
a  horse  at  a  livery-stable  if  only  an  occasional  drive* was 
desired ;  and  I  cling  to  that  theory  yet.  But  everybody  else 
seemed  to  think  I  ought  to  own  a  horse.  Mrs.  Adeler  was 
especially  anxious  about  it.  She  insisted  that  we  were  doing 
very  well  in  the  world,  and  she  could  not  see  the  use  of  hav¬ 
ing  means  if  we  were  to  live  always  as  we  did  when  we  were 
134 


COOLEY  BTTYS  A  HORSE. 


135 


poor.  She  said  she  often  wanted  to  take  a  little  drive  along 
the  river-road  in  the  evening  with  the  children,  and  she  fre¬ 
quently  wished  to  visit  her  friends  in  the  country,  but  she 
couldn’t  bear  to  go  with  a  strange  horse  of  which  she  knew 
nothing. 

My  friends  used  to  say,  “  Adeler,  I  wonder  you  don’t  keep 
a  horse  and  take  your  family  out  sometimes and  they 
hammered  away  at  the  theme  until  I  actually  began  to  feel 
as  if  the  public  suspected  me  of  being  a  niggardly  and  cruel 
tyrant,  who  hugged  my  gold  to  my  bosom  and  gloated  over 
the  misery  of  my  wife  and  children — gloated  because  they 
couldn’t  have  a  horse.  People  used  to  come  down  from  the 
city  to  see  us,  and  after  examining  the  house  and  garden, 
they  would  remark,  “Very  charming! — very  charming,  in¬ 
deed  !  A  little  paradise,  in  fact ;  but,  Adeler,  why  don’t  you 
buv  a  horse  ?” 

I  gradually  grew  nervous  upon  the  subject,  and  was  toler¬ 
ably  well  convinced  that  there  would  never  be  perfect  hap¬ 
piness  in  my  family  until  I 
purchased  a  steed  of  some 
kind.  At  last,  one  day 
Cooley  had  a  yellow  horse 
knocked  down  to  him  at  one 
of  those  auction-sales  which 
are  known  in  the  rural  dis¬ 
tricts  as  “Va?idues.”  And 
when  I  saw  Cooley  drive 
past  the  house,  every  afternoon,  with  that  saffron  brute,  and 
his  family  in  a  dearborn  wagon,  and  observed  how  he  looked 
in  at  us  and  smiled  superciliously,  as  if  he  was  thinking, 
“  There  lives  a  miserable  outcast  who  has  no  horse  and  can’t 
get  one,”  I  determined  to  purchase  at  once. 

I  have  not  had  much  experience  with  horses,  but  I  found 
one  whose  appearance  and  gait  were  fairly  good,  and  I  was 


136 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


particularly  drawn  toward  him  because  the  man  recom¬ 
mended  him  as  being  “urbane.”  I  had  heard  many  de¬ 
scriptions  of  the  points  of  a  good  horse,  but  this  was  the  first 
time  I  had  ever  met  a  horse  whose  most  prominent  cha¬ 
racteristic  was  urbanity.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  quality 
was  an  excellent  one,  and  I  made  a  bargain  on  the  spot  and 
drove  home. 

“  Mrs.  Adeler,”  I  said,  as  I  exhibited  the  purchase  to  her, 
“  I  do  not  think  this  horse  is  very  fast ;  I  do  not  regard  him 
as  in  the  highest  sense  beautiful ;  he  may  even  be  deficient 
in  wind ;  his  tail  certainly  is  short ;  and  I  think  I  can  detect 


In  his  forelegs  a  tendency  to  spring  too  far  forward  at  the 
knees;  but,  Mrs.  Adeler,  the  horse  is  urbane.  The  man 
said  that  his  urbanity  amounted  to  a  positive  weakness,  and 
that  is  why  I  bought  him.  If  a  horse  is  not  urbane,  my 
dear,  it  is  useless,  no  matter  what  its  merit  in  other  respects.” 

She  said  that  had  been  her  opinion  from  early  childhood. 


THE  PLEASURES  OF  RIDING. 


137 


rt  I  do  not  care  greatly,  Mrs.  Adeler,  for  excessive  speed. 
Give  me  a  horse  that  can  proceed  with  merely  a  tolerable 
degree  of  celerity  and  I  am  content.  I  never  could  compre¬ 
hend  why  a  man  whose  horse  can  trot  a  mile  in  two  minutes 
and  forty  seconds  should  be  made  unhappy  because  another 
man’s  horse  trots  the  same  distance  one  second  sooner — that 
is,  of  course,  supposing  that  they  are  not  running  for  money. 
One  second  of  time  never  makes  any  especial  difference  to 
me,  even  when  I  am  in  a  hurry.  What  I  want  in  a  horse 
is  not  swiftness,  but  urbanity.  I  would  rather  have  a  kind- 
hearted  horse,  like  ours,  than  the  most  rapid  trotter  with  a 
wicked  disposition.” 

For  a  while  I  enjoyed  having  a  horse,  and  I  felt  glad  I 
had  bought  him.  It  seemed  very  good  to  drive  down  by  the 
river-bank  upon  a  pleasant  evening,  with  the  cool  breeze 
blowing  in  from  the  water,  and  the  country  around  beautiful 
with  the  bright  foliage  of  early  autumn.  There  was  a  suf¬ 
ficient  compensation  for  the  heat  and  wretchedness  of  the 
busy  day  in  that  quiet  journey  over  the  level  road  and  past 
the  fragrant  fields  in  the  early  twilight ;  and  as  we  came 
home  amid  the  deepening  shadows,  we  could  find  pleasure 
in  watching  the  schooners  far  off  in  the  channel  flinging  out 
their  lights,  and  we  could  see  the  rays  streaming  across  the 
wide  interval  of  rippling  surface,  and  moving  weirdly  and 
strangely  with  the  motion  of  the  water. 

Sometimes,  upon  going  out,  we  would  overtake  Cooley  in 
his  dearborn;  and  then  it  was  felicitous  to  observe  how, 
when  I  touched  my  horse  with  the  whip,  the  animal  put  his 
head  down,  elevated  his  abbreviated  tail  to  a  horizontal  posi¬ 
tion  and  left  Cooley  far,  far  behind,  flogging  his  tawny  horse 
with  such  fury  as  would  surely  have  subjected  him  to  the  re¬ 
proaches  of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Animals  if  that  excellent  organization  had  been  present. 
My  horse  could  achieve  a  tolerably  rapid  gait  when  he  de- 


138 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


sired  to  do  so.  That  fact  made  existence  in  this  world  of 
anguish  and  tears  seem  even  more  sad  to  Cooley  than  it  had 
done  previously.  I  feel  sure  that  he  would  have  given  fabu¬ 
lous  sums  if  his  horse  could  have  trotted  a  mile  in  a  minute 


— -just  once — when  we  were  upon  the  road  together.  I  be¬ 
gan  to  think  that  it  was  just  as  well,  after  all,  to  have  a  pro¬ 
gressive  horse  as  a  slow  one. 

But  when  the  novelty  of  the  thing  had  passed,  my  old 
indisposition  to  amusement  of  that  kind  gradually  returned. 
I  drove  less  frequently.  One  day  my  man  said  to  me : 

"  Mr.  Adeler,  that  hoss  is  a-eatin’  his  head  off,  sir.  If  you 
don’t  take  him  out,  he’ll  be  so  wild  that  he’ll  bu’st  the  ma¬ 
chine  to  flinders,  sir.” 

The  threatened  catastrophe  seemed  so  alarming  that  I 
took  him  out,  although  I  had  important  work  to  do  at  home. 
The  next  day  I  wanted  to  stay  up  in  the  city  to  go  to  a  lec¬ 
ture  ;  but  that  morning,  early,  the  horse  again  displayed  an 
alarming  amount  of  friskiness,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  must  go 
down  and  exercise  him.  I  drove  him  for  three  hours  at  a 
rapid  gait,  and  succeeded  in  working  off  at  least  the  exuber¬ 
ance  of  his  spirits. 

On  the  following  Wednesday  I  came  home  in  the  after- 


THE  HORSE  HAUNTS  ME. 


139 


noon,  exhausted  with  work,  and  intending  to  retire  at  an 
early  hour.  At  half-past  six  o’clock,  Judge  Pitman  came 
in.  He  remarked : 

“Adeler,  that  horse  of  yourn  ’ll  certainly  go  crazy  if  you 
don’t  move  him  around.  Mind  me.  He  kicks  like  a  flint¬ 
lock  musket  now  if  you  come  within  forty  foot 
of  the  stable.” 

I  went  out  and  hitched  up,  and  that  night 
I  drove  twenty-four  miles  at  a  frightful  speed. 

Horses  have,  perhaps,  gone  farther  and  faster, 
but  few  have  been  pushed  forward  with  a  smaller  regard  for 
consequences.  Nothing  but  a  recollection  of  the  cost  of  the 
horse  restrained  me  from  driving  him  into  the  river  and 
leaving  him  there. 

By  degrees  the  despicable  brute  became  the  curse  of  my 
existence.  If  I  desired  to  go  on  a  journey,  the  restlessness 
of  the  horse  had  first  to  be  overcome.  If  I  received  an  invi¬ 
tation  to  a  party,  the  horse  must  be  exercised  beforehand. 
If  I  had  an  important  article  to  write,  I  must  roam  around 
the  country  behind  that  horse  for  two  or  three  hours,  hold¬ 
ing  him  in  with  such  force  that  my  hands  were  made  too 
unsteady  for  penmanship.  If  I  wanted  to  take  a  row  on 
the  river — an  exercise  of  which  I  am  passionately  fond — • 
that  detestable  animal  had  to  be  danced  up  and  down  the 
turnpike  in  order  to  keep  him  from  kicking  the  stable  to 
pieces.  And  he  was  recommended  to  me  as  “  urbane” ! 

He  made  my  life  unhappy.  I  became  depressed  and 
morose.  Sometimes  when,  amid  a  circle  of  friends,  there 
was  a  provocation  to  laughter,  and  I  participated  in  the  gen¬ 
eral  hilarity,  I  would  suddenly  become  conscious  of  the  fact 
that  the  horse  was  in  active  existence,  and  the  mirth  would 
be  extinguished  in  gloom.  He  mingled  with  my  dreams. 
Visions  of  a  bob-tailed  horse  consuming  spectral  oats,  and 
kicking  with  millions  of  legs,  disturbed  my  rest  at  night.  I 


140 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


rushed  with  him  over  countless  leagues  of  shadowy  road,  and 
plunged  with  him  over  incomprehensible  precipices.  He 
organized  himself  into  hideous  nightmare  shapes,  and 


charged  wildly  over  me  as  I  slept,  and  filled  all  the  air  of 
that  mysterious  slumber-land  with  the  noise  of  his  demoniac 
neighing. 

The  reality  was  bad  enough  without  the  unreal  nocturnal 
horrors.  I  might  have  sold  the  brute,  but  my  wife  really 
wanted  to  have  a  horse,  and  I  wished  to  oblige  her.  But  it 
was  very  wearing  to  bear  about  constantly  the  feeling  of  re¬ 
sponsibility  which  the  animal  engendered.  I  had  to  choose 
between  driving  him  continually  and  having  the  lives  of  the 
members  of  my  family  imperiled  when  they  took  him  out ; 
and  the  consciousness  that  whether  there  was  sickness  or 
business,  storm  or  earthquake,  calamity  or  death,  the  horse 
must  be  driven,  gradually  placed  me  in  the  position  of  a 
man  who  is  haunted  by  some  dreadful  spectre  that  clings  to 
him  and  overshadows  him  for  ever  and  for  ever. 


AN  APPALLING  PROPOSITION. 


141 


The  perpetual  nervous  worry  told  upon  me.  I  became 
thin.  My  clothing  hung  loose  upon  me.  I  took  up  two 
inches  in  my  waistcoat  strap.  The 
appetite  which  enabled  me  to  find 
enjoyment  at  the  table  deserted  me. 

The  food  seemed  tasteless;  and  if 
in  the  midst  of  a  meal  the  neigh  of 
the  horse  came  eddying  up  through 
the  air  from  the  stable,  I  turned 
away  with  a  feeling  of  disgust,  and 
felt  as  if  I  wanted  to  prod  some¬ 
body  with  the  carving-knife. 

One  day  my  wife  said  to  me : 

“  Mr.  Adeler,  you  know  that  I  urged  you  strongly  to  buy 
that  horse,  and  I  thought  he  would  do,  but — ” 

“  But  now  you  want  to  sell  him !  ha !  ha !”  I  exclaimed, 
with  delight.  “Very  well,  I’ll  send  him  to  the  auctioneer 
this  very  day.” 

“  I  wasn’t  going  to  say  that,”  she  remarked.  “  What  I 
wanted  to  mention  was  that  nearly  everybody  in  good  cir¬ 
cumstances  about  here  drives  a  pair,  and  I  think  we  ought 
to  get  another  horse;  don’t  you,  my  dear?  It’s  so  much 
nicer  than  having  only  one.” 

“  Mrs.  Adeler,”  I  said,  solemnly,  “  that  one  horse  down 
there  in  the  stable  has  reduced  me  to  a  skeleton  and  made 
me  utterly  miserable.  I  will  do  as  you  say  if  you  insist 
upon  it,  but  I  tell  you  plainly  that  if  another  horse  is 
brought  upon  these  premises  I  shall  go  mad.” 

“  Don’t  speak  in  that  manner,  my  dear.” 

“  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Adeler,  that  I  shall  go  stark,  staring 
mad!  Take  your  choice:  go  without  the  other  horse  or 
have  a  maniac  husband.” 

She  said,  of  course,  she  would  do  without  the  horse. 

But  the  affliction  was  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  removed 
12 


142 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


My  horse  had  a  singularly  brief  tail,  and  I  thought  it  might 
be  that  some  of  his  violent  demonstrations  in  the  stable  were 
induced  by  his  inability  to  switch  off  the  flies  which  alighted 
upon  sensitive  portions  of  the  body.  It  occurred  to  me  to 

get  him  up  an  arti¬ 
ficial  tail  for  home 
use,  and  I  procured 
a  piece  of  thick 
rope  for  the  pur¬ 
pose.  There  was, 
too,  a  certain  hu¬ 
morousness  about 
the  idea  that  pleas¬ 
ed  me;  and  as  the 
amount  of  jocularity  which  that  horse  had  occasioned  had, 
thus  far,  been  particularly  small,  the  notion  had  peculiar 
attractiveness. 

I  unraveled  about  eighteen  inches  of  the  rope  and  fast¬ 
ened  the  other  end  to  the  horse’s  tail.  This,  I  estimated, 
would  enable  him  to  switch  a  fly  off  the  very  end  of  his  nose 
when  he  had  acquired  a  little  practice.  Unfortunately,  I 
neglected  to  speak 
to  my  man  upon 
the  subject ;  and 
when  he  came  to 
the  stable  that 
evening,  he  ex¬ 
amined  the  rope 
and  concluded 
that  I  was  trying 
experiments  with 
some  new  kind  of  hitching-strap ;  so  he  tied  the  horse  to  the 
stall  by  the  artificial  continuation.  By  morning  the  feed- 
box  was  kicked  into  kindling-wood,  and  the  horse  was  stand 


DEATH  OF  OUR  HORSE. 


143 


ing  on  three  legs,  with  the  other  leg  caught  in  the  hay-rack, 
while  he  had  chewed  up  two  of  the  best  boards  in  the  side  of 
the  stable  in  front  of  him. 

Subsequently  I  explained  the  theory  to  the  man  and  re¬ 
adjusted  the  rope.  But  the  patent  tail  annoyed  the  hostler 
so  much  while  currying  the  horse  that  he  tied  a  stone  to  it 
to  hold  it  still.  The  consequence  was  that  in  a  moment  of 
unusual  excitement  the  horse  flung  the  stone  around  and 
inflicted  a  severe  wound  upon  the  man’s  head.  The  man 
resigned  next  morning. 

I  then  concluded  to  introduce  an  improvement.  I  pur¬ 
chased  some  horse-hair  and  spliced  it  upon  the  tail  so  neatly 
that  it  had  the  appearance  of  a 
natural  growth.  When  the  new 
man  came,  he  attempted  to  comb 
out  the  horse’s  tail,  and  the  add¬ 
ed  portion  came  off  in  his  hand. 

He  had  profound  confidence  in 
his  veterinarv  skill,  and  he  im- 
agined  that  the  occurrence  indi¬ 
cated  a  diseased  condition  of  the 
horse.  So  he  purchased  some 
powders  and  gave  the  animal  an 
enormous  dose  in  a  bucket  of 
warm  “mash.”  In  half  an  hour 
that  pestilential  horse  was  seized 
with  convulsions,  during  which 
he  kicked  out  the  stable-door,  shattered  the  stall  to  pieces, 
hammered  four  more  boards  out  of  the  partition,  dislocated 
his  off  hind  leg  and  expired  in  frightful  agony. 

He  was  more  urbane  after  death  than  he  had  been  during 
his  life,  and  I  contemplated  his  remains  without  shedding  a 
tear.  He  was  sold  to  a  glue-man  for  eight  dollars ;  and  when 
he  had  departed,  I  felt  that  he  would  fulfill  a  wiser  and  better 


144 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


purpose  as  a  contributor  to  the  national  stock  of  glue  than 
as  the  unconscious  persecutor  of  his  former  owner. 

“  Mrs.  Adeler,  do  you  feel  any  interest  in  the  subject  of 
pirates  ?” 

She  said  the  question  was  somewhat  abrupt,  but  she 
thought  she  might  safely  say  she  did  not. 

“  I  make  the  inquiry  for  the  reason  that  I  have  just  writ¬ 
ten  a  ballad  which  has  for  its  hero  a  certain  bold  corsair. 
This  is  the  first  consequence  of  the  death  of  our  horse.  In 
the  exuberance  of  joy  caused  by  that  catastrophe,  I  felt  as 
if  I  would  like  to  perpetrate  something  which  should  be 
purely  ridiculous,  and  accordingly  I  organized  upon  paper 
this  piratical  narrative.  You  think  the  subject  is  an  odd 
one  ?  Not  so.  I  do  not  pretend  to  explain  the  fact,  but  it 

is  true  that  by  this  generation  a 
pirate  is  regarded  as  a  comic  per¬ 
sonage.  Perhaps  the  reason  is 
that  he  has  been  so  often  presented 
to  us  in  such  a  perfectly  absurd 
form  in  melodrama  and  in  the 
cheap  and  trashy  novels  of  the  day. 
At  any  rate,  he  is  susceptible  of 
humorous  treatment,  as  you  will 
perceive. 

“  I  have  had  a  stronger  impulse 
to  write  of  buccaneers,  too,  because 
I  am  in  New  Castle ;  for,  somehow, 
I  always  associate  those  freeboot- 
ing  individuals  with  this  village.  A  certain  ancestor  of 
mine  sailed  away  from  this  town  in  1813,  in  a  brig  commis¬ 
sioned  as  a  privateer,  and  played  havoc  with  the  ships  of 
the  enemy  upon  the  Atlantic.  In  my  childhood  I  used  to 
hear  of  his  brave  deeds,  and,  somehow,  I  conceived  the  idea 


MRS.  JONES'S  PIRATE. 


145 


that  he  was  a  genuine  pirate  with  a  black  flag,  skull  and 
cross-bones,  and  a  disagreeable  habit  of  compelling  his  cap¬ 
tives  to  walk  the  plank.  I  was  much  more  proud  of  him 
then,  Mrs.  Adeler,  than  I  should  be  now  had  he  really  been 
such  a  ruffian.  But  he  was  not.  He  was  a  gallant  sailor 
and  a  brave  and  honest  gentleman,  who  served  his  country 
faithfully  on  the  ocean,  and  then  held  a  post  of  honor  as 
warden  of  the  port  of  Philadelphia  until  his  death.  But  I 
never  go  to  the  river’s  side  in  New  Castle  without  involun¬ 
tarily  recalling  that  fine  old  man  in  the  character  of  an  out¬ 
lawed  rover  upon  the  high  seas. 

“  Here,  my  dear,  is  the  ballad.  When  I  have  read  it  to 
you,  I  will  send  it  to  the  Argus.  Since  Mr.  Slimmer’s  retire¬ 
ment  there  has  been  a  dearth  of  poetry  in  the  columns  of  that 
great  organ.” 

MRS.  JONES’S  PIRATE. 

A  sanguinary  pirate  sailed  upon  the  Spanish  main 
In  a  rakish-looking  schooner  which 
was  called  the  “Mary  Jane.” 

She  carried  lots  of  howitzers  and 
deadly  rifled  guns, 

With  shot  and  shell  and  powder  and 
percussion  caps  in  tons. 

The  pirate  was  a  homely  man,  and 
short  and  grum  and  fat ; 

He  wore  a  wild  and  awful  scowl  be¬ 
neath  his  slouching  hat. 

Swords,  pistols  and  stilettos  were  ar¬ 
ranged  around  his  thighs, 

And  demoniacal  glaring  was  quite 
common  with  his  eyes. 


His  heavy  black  moustaches  curled  away  beneath  his  nose, 
And  drooped  in  elegant  festoons  about  his  very  toes. 

12* 


146  OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 

•w-*  • 


He  hardly  ever  spoke  at  all ;  but  when  such  was  the  case, 

His  voice  ’twas  easy  to  perceive  was  quite  a  heavy  bass. 

He  was  not  a  serious  pirate;  and  despite  his  anxious  cares, 

He  rarely  went  to  Sunday-school  and  seldom  said  his  prayers. 

He  worshiped  lovely  women,  and  his  hope  in  life  was  this: 

To  calm  his  wild,  tumultuous  soul  with  pure  domestic  bliss. 

When  conversing  with  his  shipmates,  he  very  often  swore 
That  he  longed  to  give  up  piracy  and  settle  down  on  shore. 

He  tired  of  blood  and  plunder  ;  of  the  joys  that  they  could  bring; 
He  sighed  to  win  the  love  of  some  affectionate  young  thing. 


One  morning  as  the  “  Mary  Jane”  went  bounding  o’er  the  sea 

The  pirate  saw  a  merchant  bark  far 
off  upon  his  lee. 

He  ordered  a  pursuit,  and  spread  all 
sail»that  he  could  spare, 

And  then  went  down,  in  hopeful  mood, 
to  shave  and  curl  his  hair. 

lie  blacked  his  boots  and  pared  his 
nails  and  tied  a  fresh  cravat ; 
lie  cleansed  his  teeth,  pulled  down  his 
cuffs  and  polished  up  his  hat ; 

He  dimmed  with  flour  the  radiance  of 
his  fiery  red  nose, 

For,  hanging  with  that  vessel’s  wash, 
he  saw  some  ladies'  hose. 


Once  more  on  deck,  the  stranger’s  hull  he  riddled  with 
a  ball, 

And  yelled,  “I  say!  what  bark  is  that?”  In  an¬ 
swer  to  his  call 

The  skipper  on  the  other  boat  replied  in  thunder 
tones: 

“  This  here’s  the  bark  Matilda,  and  her  captain’s  name  is  Jones.” 


The  pirate  told  his  bold  corsairs  to  man  the  jolly-boats, 

To  board  the  bark  and  seize  the  crew,  and  slit  their  tarry  throats, 
And  then  to  give  his  compliments  to  Captain  Jones,  and  say 
lie  wished  that  he  and  Mrs.  Jones  would  come  and  spend  the  day. 


4 


MBS.  JONES  OBJECTS. 


147 


killed  the  crew,  they  threw  them  in  the 


Bat  when  the  pirate’s  message 
came,  she  dried  her  stream¬ 
ing  tears, 

And  said,  although  she’d  like  to 
come,  she  had  unpleasant 
fears 

That,  his  social  status  being  very 
evidently  low, 

She  might  meet  some  common 


people  whom  she  wouldn’t  care  to  know. 


fhey  reached  the  bark,  they 
sea, 

And  then  they  sought  the  cap¬ 
tain,  who  was  mad  as  he 
could  be, 

Because  his  wife — who  saw  the 
whole  sad  tragedy,  it 
seems — 

Made  all  the  ship  vociferous  with 
her  outrageous  screams. 


148 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Her  husband’s  aged  father,  she  admitted,  dealt  in  bones, 

But  the  family  descended  from  the  famous  Duke  de  Jones; 

And  such  blue-blooded  people,  that  the  rabble 
might  be  checked, 

Had  to  make  their  social  circle  excessively 
select. 


Before  she  visited  his  ship  she  wanted  him  to 
say 

If  the  Smythes  had  recognized  him  in  a  social, 
_  friendly  way ; 

— cw  S v--= - Did  the  Jonsons  ever  ask  him  ’round  to  their 

ancestral  halls? 

Was  he  noticed  by  the  Thomsons?  Was  he  asked  to  Simms’s  balls? 


The  pirate  wrote  that  Thomson  was  his  best  and  oldest  friend, 
That  he  often  stopped  at  Jonson’s  when  he  had  a  week  to  spend  ; 
As  for  the  Smythes,  they  worried  him  with  their  incessant  calls ; 
His  very  legs  were  weary  with  the  dance  at  Simms’s  balls. 


(The  scoundrel  fibbed  most 
shamelessly.  In  truth  he 
only  knew 

A  lot  of  Smiths  without  a  y — a 
most  plebeian  crew. 

His  Johnsons  used  a  vulgar  h, 
his  Thompsons  spelled 
with  p, 

His  Simses  had  one  m,  and  they 
were  common  as  could  be.) 


Then  Mrs.  Jones  mussed  up  her 
hair  and  donned  her  best 
delaine, 

And  went  with  Captain  Jones 
aboard  the  schooner  Mary 
Jane. 

The  pirate  won  her  heart  at 

once  by  saying,  with  a  smile, 

He  never  saw  a  woman  dressed  in  such  exquisite  style. 


WIDOWED  AND  MARRIED. 


149 


The  pirate’s  claim  to  status  she  was  very  sure  was  just 
When  she  noticed  how  familiarly  the  Johnsons  he  discussed. 
Her  aristocratic  scruples  then  were  quickly  laid  aside, 

And  when  the  pirate  sighed  at  her,  reciproc’ly  she  sighed. 


No  sooner  was  the  newer  love  within  her  bosom  born 

Than  Jones  was  looked  upon  by  her  with  hatred  and  with  scorn. 

She  said  ’twas  true  his  ancestor  was  famous  Duke  de  Jones, 

But  she  shuddered  to  remember  that  his  father  dealt  in  bones. 

So  then  they  got  at  Captain  Jones  and  hacked  him  with  a  sword, 
And  chopped  him  into  little  bits  and  tossed  him  overboard. 

The  chaplain  read  the 
service,  and  the  cap¬ 
tain  of  the  bark 

Before  his  widow’s  weep¬ 
ing  eyes  was  gobbled 
by  a  shark. 

The  chaplain  turned  the 
prayer-book  o’er  > 
the  bride  took  off 
her  glove ; 

They  swore  to  honor,  to 

obey,  to  cherish  and  to  love. 

And,  freighted  full  of  happiness,  across  the  ocean’s  foam 
The  schooner  glided  rapidly  toward  the  pirate’s  home. 


And  when  of  ecstasy  and  joy  their  hearts  could  hold  no  more, 

That  pirate  dropped  his  anchor  down  and  rowed  his  love  ashore. 
And  as  they  sauntered  up  the  street  he  gave  his  bride  a  poke, 

And  said,  “In  them  there  mansions  live  the  friends  of  whom  I 
spoke.” 

§ 

She  glanced  her  eye  along  the  plates  of  brass  upon  each  door, 

And  then  her  anger  rose  as  it  had  never  done  before. 

She  said,  “  That  Johnson  has  an  h  !  that  Thompson  has  a  p! 

The  Smith  that  spells  without  a  y  is  not  the  Smith  for  me  1” 


150 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY . 


And  darkly  scowled  she  then  upon  that  rover  of  the  wave; 

“False!  False !”  she 
shrieked,  and 
spoke  of  him  as 
“  Monster,  trait¬ 
or,  slave !” 

And  then  she  wept 
and  tore  her  hair, 
and  filled  the  air 
with  groans, 

And  cursed  with  bit¬ 
terness  the  day 
she  let  them  chop 
up  Jones. 


And  when  she’d  spent  on  him  at  last  the  venom  of  her  tongue, 
She  seized  her  pongee 
parasol  and  stabbed 
him  in  the  lung. 

A  few  more  energetic 
jabs  were  at  his 
heart  required, 

And  then  this  scand- 
’lous  buccaneer 
rolled  over  and  ex¬ 
pired. 


Still  brandishing  her  parasol  she  sought  the  pirate  boat ; 

She  loaded  up  a  gun  and 
jammed  her  head 
into  its  throat ; 

And  fixing  fast  the  trig¬ 
ger,  with  string  tied 
to  her  toe, 

She  breathed  “  Mother !” 
through  the  touch- 
hole,  and  kicked  and 
let  her  go. 


A  CONUNDRUM. 


151 


A  snap,  a  fizz,  a  rumble ;  some  stupendous  roaring  tones — 

And  where  upon  earth’s  surface  was  the  recent  Mrs.  Jones? 

Go  ask  the  moaning  winds,  the  sky,  the  mists,  the  murmuring  sea ; 
Go  ask  the  fish,  the  coroner,  the  clams — but  don’t  ask  me. 


CHAPTER  X. 


A  Picturesque  Church— Some  Reflections  upon  Church 
Music— Bob  Parker  in  the  Choir — Our  Undertaker — 
A  Gloomy  Man — Our  Experience  with  the  Hot-Air 
Furnaces — A  Series  of  Accidents — Mr.  Collamer’s 
Vocalism — An  Extraordinary  Mistake. 

HERE  are  but  few  old  vil¬ 
lages  in  the  United  States 
that  contain  ancient  church¬ 
es  so  picturesque  in  situation 
and  in  appearance  as  that 
which  stands  in  the  centre 
of  our  town,  the  most  con¬ 
spicuous  of  its  buildings. 
The  churchyard  is  filled  with 
graves,  for  the  people  still 
cling  to  that  kindly  usage 
which  places  the  sacred 
dust  of  the  departed  in  holy 
ground.  And  so  here,  be¬ 
neath  the  trees,  and  close  to 
the  shadow  of  the  sanctuary  walls,  villagers  of  all  ages  and 
generations  lie  reposing  in  their  final  slumber,  while  from 
among  them  the  snow-white  spire  rises  heavenward  to  point 
the  way  their  souls  have  gone.  There  are  many  of  us  who 
were  not  born  here,  and  who  are,  as  it  were,  almost  strangers 
in  the  town,  who  can  wander  down  the  narrow  paths  of  the 
yard,  to  out-of-the-way  corners,  where  the  headstones  are 
gray  with  age  and  sometimes  covered  with  a  film  of  moss, 
152 


THE  CHURCHYARD. 


153 


and  read  in  the  quaint  characters  with  which  the  marble  is 
inscribed  our  own  family  names.  Here  lies  the  mortal  part 
of  men  and  women  who  were  dear  to  our 
grandsires ;  of  little  children  too,  sometimes, 
whose  departure  brought  sorrow  to  the 
hearts  of  those  who  joined  them  in  Paradise 
long,  long  before  we  began  to  play  our  parts 
in  the  drama  of  existence.  The  lives  that 
ended  in  this  quiet  resting-place  are  full  of 
deepest  interest  to  us;  they  have  a  con¬ 
trolling  influence  upon  our  destiny,  and  yet 
they  are  very  unreal  to  us.  The  figures 
which  move  by  us  as  we  try  to  summon  up 
the  panorama  of  that  past  are  indistinct 
and  obscure.  They  are  shadows  walking  in 
the  dusk,  and  we  strive  in  vain  to  vest  them 
with  a  semblance  of  the  personality  which 
once  was  theirs.  They  should  seem  very 
near  to  us  their  kindred,  and  yet,  as  we 
attempt  to  come  closer  to  them,  they  appear 
so  remote,  so  far  away  in  the  dead  years, 
that  we  hardly  dare  to  claim  fellowship  with  them,  or  to 
speak  of  them  as  of  our  flesh  and  blood. 

It  makes  no  difference  where  the  empty  shell  is  cast  when 
the  spiritual  man  is  gone,  but  I  reverence  that  human 
instinct  which  induces  a  man  to  wish  to  be  laid  at  the  last 
by  the  side  of  his  ancestors  and  near  to  those  whom  he  has 
loved  in  life.  It  is  at  least  a  beautiful  sentiment  which 
demands  that  those  who  are  with  each  other  in  immortality 
should  not  be  separated  here  on  earth,  but  together  should 
await  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 

I  like  this  old  church  for  its  simplicity ;  not  only  for  the 

absence  of  splendor  in  its  adornment,  but  for  the  methods 

of  worship  of  which  it  approves.  The  choir,  from  its  station 
13 


154 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY . 


in  the  organ-loft,  never  hurls  down  upon  the  heads  of  the 
saints  and  sinners  beneath  any  of  those  surprising  sounds 
which  rural  choirs  so  often  emit,  with  a  conviction  that  they 
are  achieving  wonderful  feats  of  vocalism,  and  no  profane 
fingers  compel  the  pipes  of  the  microscopic  organ  to  recall 
to  the  mind  of  the  listener  the  music  of  the  stage  and  the 
concert-room.  From  the  instrument  come  only  harmonies 
round,  sweet  and  full,  melting  in  solemn  cadences  from  key 
to  key  and  rolling  down  through  the  church,  bringing  the 
souls  of  the  worshipers  into  full  accord  with  the  spirit  of 
the  place  and  the  occasion,  or  else  pouring  forth  some 
stately  melody  on  which  the  voices  of  the  singers  are 
upborne.  The  choir  fulfills  its  highest  purpose  by  leading 
the  people  through  the  measures  of  those  grand  old  tunes, 
simple  in  construction  but  sublime  in  spirit,  which  give 
to  the  language  of  the  spiritual  songs  of  the  sanctu¬ 
ary  a  more  eloquent  beauty  than  their  own.  I  would 
rather  hear  such  music  as  may  be  found  in  “Federal 
Street,”  in  “Old  Hundred,”  in  “Hursley”  and  in  the 
“Adeste  Fideles,”  sung  by  an  entire  assembly  of  people 

who  are  in  earnest  in  their  re¬ 
ligion,  than  to  listen  to  the  most 
intricate  fugue  worked  out  by 
a  city  choir  of  hired  singers,  or 
the  most  brilliant  anthem  sung 
by  a  congregation  of  surpliced 
boys  who  quarrel  wTith  each 
other  and  play  wicked  games 
during  the  prayers.  Such  tunes 
as  these  are  filled  with  solemn 
meaning  which  is  revealed  to 
him  whose  singing  is  really  an 
act  of  worship.  There  is  more  genuine  religious  fervor  in 
“Hursley”  than  in  a  library  of  ordinary  oratorios.  A 


THE  OLD  CHURCH 


XU  Llbftrr 

el 

of  INUvfcii 


SOMETHING  THE  MATTER. 


157 


church  which  permits  its  choir  to  do  all  the  singing  might 
as  well  adopt  the  Chinese  fashion  of  employing  a  machine 
to  do  its  praying.  A  congregation 
which  sits  still  while  a  quartette 
of  vocalists  overhead  utters  all 
the  praises,  need  not  hesitate  to 
offer  its  supplications  by  turning 
a  brass  wheel  with  a  crank.  Our 
people  do  their  singing  and  their 
praying  for  themselves,  and  the 
choir  merely  takes  care  that  the 
music  is  of  a  fitting  kind. 

Miss  Magruder  sits  in  the  organ-loft  now  that  she  is  at 
home,  and  I  doubt  not  she  contributes  much  to  the  sweetness 
of  the  strains  which  float  from  out  that  somewhat  narrow 
enclosure.  Her  presence,  I  observe,  ensures  the  regular 
attendance  of  young  Mr.  Parkerat  the  church,  and  last  Sun¬ 
day  he  even  ventured  to  sit  with  the  choir  and  to  help  with 
the  singing.  I  have  never  considered  him  a  really  good  per¬ 
former,  although  he  cherishes  a  conviction  that  he  has  an 
admirable  voice,  and  such  acquaintance  with  the  art  of 
using  it  as  would  have  given  him  eminence  if  he  had  chosen 
the  career  of  a  public  singer.  After  service  I  had  occasion 
to  speak  to  the  clergyman  for  a  moment,  and  as  soon  as  he 
saw  me  he  said : 

“  Mr.  Adeler,  did  you  notice  anything  about  the  organ  or 
the  choir  to-day  that  was  peculiar  ?” 

“  No ;  I  do  not  think  I  did.” 

“  It  is  very  odd ;  but  it  seemed  to  me 
when  they  were  singing  the  two  last  hymns 
that  something  must  be  the  matter  with  one 
of  the  pipes.  There  was  a  sort  of  a  rough, 
buzzing,  rasping  sound  which  I  have  never  observed  before. 
The  instrument  must  need  repairing.” 


158 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY \ 


U 


«T7i 


“I  think  I  know  what  it  was,”  remarked  Mr.  Campbell, 
the  basso,  who  stepped  up  at  that  moment. 

The  valves  a  little  worn,  I  suppose  ?”  said  the  minister. 

“Well,  no,”  replied  Campbell;  “the  fact  is 
that  extraordinary  noise  was  produced  by  Mr. 
Parker,  who  was  making  a  strenuous  effort  to 
sing  bass.  He  seemed  to  be  laboring  under  a 
strong  conviction  that  the  composers  had  made 
some  mistakes  in  the  tunes,  which  he  proposed  to  correct  as 
he  went  along.  Parker’s  singing  is  like  homoeopathic  medi¬ 
cine — a  very  little  of  it  is  enough.” 


Bob  attributes  the  criticism  of  Campbell  to  professional 
jealousy,  but  he  will  probably  sit  down  stairs  after  this. 
He  prefers  not  to  waste  his  talents  upon  provincial  people 
who  cannot  appreciate  genuine  art.  He  will  content  him¬ 
self  with  walking  home  with  the  fair  Magruder  after  service. 

There  is  one  thing  about  the  church  with  which  I  must 


OUR  UNDERTAKER . 


153 


find  fault.  I  have  never  been  able  to  comprehend  why  it  is 
customary  throughout  this  country,  even  in  the  large  cities,  to 
permit  undertakers  to  decorate  the  exteriors  of  churches  with 
their  advertisements,  as  ours  is  decorated  by  our  undertaker. 
In  old  times,  when  the  sexton  was  the  grave-digger  and 
general  public  functionary,  it  was  well  enough  to  give  pub¬ 
licity  to  his  residence  by  posting  its  whereabouts  in  a  public 
place.  There  were  oftentimes  little  offices  which  he  had  to 
perform  for  the  congregation  and  for  the  neighborhood,  and 
it  was  necessary  that  he  should  be  found  quickly.  But  the 
present  fashion,  which  allows  an  undertaker — who  has  no 
other  connection  with  the  church  than  that  he  sits  in  a  pew 
occasionally  and  goes  to  sleep  during  the 
sermon — to  nail  a  tin  sign,  bearing  a  picture 
of  a  gilt  coffin,  right  by  the  church  door,  so 
that  no  man,  woman  or  child  can  enter  that 
sanctuary  without  thinking  of  the  grave,  is 
monstrous. 

It  is  very  proper  that  the  minds  of  the  people  should  be 
turned  to  contemplation  of  the  certainty  of  death  whenever 
they  go  to  church.  But  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  disturb  a 
man’s  reflections  upon  the  necessity  of  preparing  for  the 
grave  by  confronting  him  with  an  advertisement  which  com¬ 
pels  him  to  remember  how  much  it  is  going  to  cost  his  rela¬ 
tions  to  put  him  there.  Besides  this,  it  makes  the  under¬ 
takers  covetous,  and  fills  their  gloomy  souls  with  murderous 
wishes. 

1  have  seen  ours  standing  against  the  wall  in  the  church¬ 
yard  on  a  Sunday  morning  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
glowering  at  the  congregation  as  they  go  in,  eyeing  and 
criticising  the  members,  and  muttering  to  himself,  “Splendid 
fit  he’d  make  in  that  mahogany  coffin  I’ve  got  at  home !” 
“  There  goes  a  man  who  ought  to  have  died  five  years  ago 

if  I’d  been  treated  right  I”  “  I’ll  souse  that  Thompson  un- 
13* 


160 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


derground  some  of  these  fine  days !”  “  Those  Mulligan  girls 

certainly  can’t  give  the  old  man  anything  less  than  a  four- 
hundred-dollar  funeral  when  he  dies !”  “  Healthiest  looking 
congregation  of  its  size  I  ever  saw !”  etc.,  etc. 

Jf  I  were  in  authority  in  the  church,  I  would  suppress 
that  gilded  advertisement  and  try  to  convert  the  owner  of  it. 


No  man  should  be  permitted  to  waste  his  Sabbaths  in  vain 
longings  for  the  interment  of  his  fellow-men. 

They  are  very  busy  now  at  the  church  putting  in  new 
furnaces  in  order  to  be  prepared  for  the  cold  weather.  New 
ones  were  introduced  last  winter,  I  am  told,  but  they  were 
not  entirely  successful  in  operation.  The  first  time  the  fire 
was  put  in  them  was  on  Saturday  morning,  and  on  Sunday 


THOSE  DREADFUL  FURNACES. 


161 


the  smoke  was  so  dense  in  the  church  that  nobody  could  see 
the  clergyman.  The  workman  had  put  the  stove-pipe  into 
the  hot-air  flue.  Next  Saturday  night  the  fires  were  lighted, 
but  on  Sunday  morning  only  the  air  immediately  under  the 
roof  was  warm,  and  the  congregation  nearly  froze  to  death. 

The  sexton  was  then  instructed  to 
make  the  fire  on  Thursday,  in 
order  to  give  the  church  a  chance 
to  become  thoroughly  heated. 
He  did  so,  and  early  Sunday 
morning  the  furnaces  were  so 
choked  up  with  ashes  that  the 
fires  went  out,  and  again  the 
thermometer  in  the  front  pew 
marked  zero. 

Then  the  sexton  received  or¬ 
ders  to  make  that  fire  on  Thurs¬ 
day,  and  to  watch  it  carefully 
until  church -time  on  the  fol¬ 
lowing  Sabbath.  He  did  so,  and  both  furnaces  were  in  full 
blast  at  the  appointed  hour.  That  was  the  only  warm 
Sunday  we  had  last  winter.  The  mercury  was  up  to  eighty 
degrees  out  of  doors,  while  in  the  church  everybody  was  in 
a  profuse  perspiration,  and  the  bellows-blower  at  the  organ 
fainted  twice.  The 
next  Sunday  the 
sexton  tried  to  keep 
the  fires  low  by 
pushing  in  the 
dampers,  and  con- 
sequently  the 
church  was  filled 
with  coal-gas,  and 
the  choir  couldn’t 


162 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


sing,  nor  could  the  minister  preach  without  coughing  be- 
tween  his  sentences. 

Subsequently  the  sexton  removed  one  of  the  cast-iron 
registers  in  the  floor  for  the  purpose  of  examining  the  hot¬ 
air  flue.  He  left  the  hole  open  while  he  went  into  the  cel¬ 
lar  for  a  moment,  and  just  then  old  Mr.  Collamer  came 
in  to  hunt  for  his  gloves,  which  he  thought  he  had  left  in 
his  pew.  Of  course  he  walked  directly  into 
the  opening,  and  was  dragged  out  in  a  condi¬ 
tion  of  asphyxia.  That  very  day  one  of  the 
furnaces  burst  and  nearly  fired  the  church. 
— The  demand  for  heaters  of  another  kind  seemed 
to  be  imperative. 

Old  Collamer,  by  the  way,  is  singularly  unfortunate  in 
his  experiences  in  the  sanctuary.  He  is  extremely  deaf,  and 
a  few  Sundays  ago  he  made  a  fearful  blunder  during  the 
sermon.  The  clergyman  had  occasion  to  introduce  a  quota¬ 
tion,  and  as  it  was  quite  long,  he  brought  the  volume  with 
him ;  and  when  the  time  came,  he  picked  up  the  book  and 
began  to  read  from  it.  We 
always  sing  the  Old  Hundred 
doxology  after  sermon  at  our 
church,  and  Mr.  Collamer,  see¬ 
ing  the  pastor  with  the  book, 
thought  the  time  had  come,  so 
while  the  minister  was  reading 
he  opened  his  hymn-book  at 
the  place.  Just  as  the  clergy¬ 
man  laid  the  volume  down  the 
man  sitting  next  to  Mr.  Col¬ 
lamer  began  to  yawn,  and  Mr. 

Collamer,  thinking  he  was  about  to  sing,  immediately  broke 
out  into  Old  Hundred,  and  roared  it  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
As  the  clergyman  was  just  beginning  “secondly,”  and  as 


MR.  COLL  A  HER  AS  A  WARBLER. 


163 


there  was  of  course  perfect  silence  in  the  church,  the  effect 
of  Mr.  Collamer ’s  vociferation  was  very  startling.  But  the 
good  old  man  failed  to  notice  that  anything  was  the  matter, 
so  he  kept  right  on  and  sang  the  verse  through. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  observed  that  everybody  else 
seemed  to  be  quiet,  excepting  a  few  who  were  laughing,  so 
he  leaned  over  and  said  out  loud  to  the  man  who  yawned, 

“  What’s  .the  matter  with 
this  congregation,  anyhow  ? 

Why  don’t  they  go  home  ?” 

The  man  turned  scarlet,  and 
the  perspiration  broke  out  all 
over  him,  for  he  felt  that  the 
eyes  of  the  congregation  were 
upon  him,  and  he  knew  that 
he  would  have  to  yell  to  make 
Mr.  Collamer  hear.  So  he  touched  his  lips  with  his  fingers 
as  a  sign  for  the  old  man  to  keep  quiet.  But  Mr.  Collamer 
misunderstood  the  motion : 

“  Goin’  to  sing  another  hymn,  hey  ?  All  right.” 

And  he  began  to  fumble  his  hymn-book  again.  Then  the 
sexton  hurried  up  the  aisle,  and  explained  matters  out  loud 
to  Mr.  Collamer,  and  that  gentleman  subsided,  while  the 
minister  proceeded  with  his  discourse.  The  clergyman  has 
written  Mr.  Collamer  a  note  requesting  him  in  the  future 
not  to  join  in  the  sacred  harmony.  The  effect  is  too  appal¬ 
ling  upon  the  ribald  boys  in  the  back  pews. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


A  Fishing  Excursion  down  the  River— Difficulties  of  the 
Voyage — A  Series  of  Unfortunate  Incidents — Our  Re¬ 
turn  Home,  and  how  we  were  Received — A  Letter 
upon  the  General  Subject  of  Angling — The  Sorrows 
of  the  Fisherman — Lieutenant  Smiley — His  Recollec¬ 
tions  of  Rev.  Mr.  Blodgett — A  very  Remarkable  Mis¬ 
sionary'. 


T  is  said  that  there  is  good 
fishing  in  this  vicinity.  Seve¬ 
ral  of  my  neighbors  who 
have  been  out  lately  have 
brought  home 
large  quantities 
of  fish  of  various 
kinds,  together 
with  glowing  re¬ 
ports  of  the  delightful  cha¬ 
racter  of  the  sport.  A  crav¬ 
ing  to  indulge  in  this  form 
of  amusement  was  gradually 
excited  in  the  mind  of  Mr. 
Bob  Parker  by  the  stories 
of  the  anglers  and  by  the  display  of  their  trophies,  and  he 
succeeded  in  persuading  me  to  assist  in  the  organization 
of  an  expedition  down  the  river  to  the  fishing-grounds. 
Yesterday  was  selected  for  the  undertaking.  I  hired  a  boat 
from  a  man  at  the  wharf;  and  after  packing  a  generous 
luncheon  in  the  fish-basket  and  securing  a  box  full  of  bait, 
164 


Aafrott 


TO  UGH  NA  VIGATION. 


165 


we  tossed  our  lines  into  the  boat,  together  with  a  heavy 
stone  which  was  to  serve  as  an  anchor,  and  then  we  pushed 
out  into  the  stream. 

It  was  early  morning  when  we  started,  and  to  my  dismay 
I  found  that  the  tide  was  running  up  with  remarkable 


velocity.  As  we  had  to  pull  four  miles  down  the  river,  this 
was  a  consideration  of  very  great  importance.  Mr.  Parker 
is  not  an  especially  skillful  oarsman,  and  before  he  had  fairly 
seated  himself  and  dipped  his  blade  in  the  water  we  had 
drifted  two  hundred  yards  in  the  wrong  direction.  After 
very  severe  labor  for  half  an  hour,  we  succeeded  in  getting 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  below  the  town,  and  then  Bob 
informed  me  that  he  thought  he  could  row  better  with  my 
oar.  Accordingly, 

I  changed  places 
with  him,  and  dur¬ 
ing  the  time  thus 
expended  the  boat 
went  back  a  third 
of  the  distance  we 
had  gained.  Another  prolonged  and  terrible  effort  enabled 
us  to  proceed  two  miles  toward  our  destination,  and  then 
Parker  observed  that  he  must  stop  and  rest;  he  said  he 
would  die  if  he  rowed  another  stroke.  So  we  lay  upon  our 
oars  for  a  while,  and  embraced  the  opportunity  to  wipe 
away  the  perspiration  and  to  cool  our  blistered  hands  in  the 
river.  Parker  then  asked  me  if  I  would  mind  changing 
places  with  him  again.  He  said  he  was  now  convinced  that 


166 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


he  had  made  a  mistake  in  leaving  his  first  position.  We 
fell  back  half  a  mile  during  this  period ;  and  when  we  finally- 
reached  the  grounds,  the  morning  was  far  advanced.  Bob 

was  nearly  worn  out, 
and  he  proposed  that 
we  give  up  the  idea  of 
catching  fish  and  row 
ashore,  where  we  could 
lie  down  under  the  trees 
and  begin  operations 
upon  the  luncheon. 

But  as  we  had  come 
to  fish,  I  was  determined  to  do  so.  I  informed  Bob  that  I 
should  be  ashamed  to  go  home  without  bringing  any  game. 
I  should  be  afraid  to  look  in  the  face  of  the  man  who  owned 
the  boat  when  he  asked  me  what  luck  I  had.  So  we  tied 
a  rope  around  the  stone,  and  tossing  the  stone  overboard,  we 
came  to  anchor.  Our 
hooks  were  baited  and 
the  lines  were  thrown 
out,  and  then  Bob  and 
I  waited  patiently  for 
bites. 

It  required  a  great 
deal  of  patience,  for  the 
fish  did  not  take  the 
bait  with  a  remarkable  degree  of  freedom.  In  fact,  we 
only  had  a  nibble  or  two  at  first,  and  then  even  this  mani¬ 
festation  of  the  presence  of  the  fish  ceased. 
We  were  sitting  with  our  backs  to  the  shore, 
watching  the  corks  in  front  of  us,  when  Bob 
suddenly  uttered  an  exclamation.  Upon  look¬ 
ing  around,  I  found  that  we  had  drifted  half 
a  mile  up  stream  and  out  into  the  middle  of  the  river,  which 


A  SWIM  FOR  AN  OAR. 


167 


i 


is  aere  nearly  four  miles  wide.  The  stone  had  dropped 
from  the  knot  in  the  rope  and  released  the  boat. 

Then  we  rowed  back  to  shore  and  landed  for  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  obtaining  another  stone.  We  could  not  find  one, 
so  we  pulled  out  again ;  and  sticking  one  of  the  oars 
in  the  mud,  we  fastened  the 
boat  to  that.  Then  Bob  had  a 
bite.  He  pulled  up,  and  dragged 
to  the  surface  of  the  water  a 
crab,  which  instantly  let  go  and 
sidled  under  the 
boat.  Then  we  each 
caught  a  small  sun- 
fish,  and  with  this 
our  enthusiasm  be¬ 
gan  to  revive.  Just  then  the 
oar  came  out  of  the  mud,  slipped 
through  the  loop  in  the  cable  and  floated  off.  The  prospect 
of  having  to  take  the  boat 
home  with  one  oar  seemed 
so  appalling  that  I  hastily 
threw  off  my  coat  and  shoes 
and  swam  after  the  fugitive 
oar.  Meantime,  the  boat  floated 
off,  and  I  reached  it  and  was 
hauled  in  by  Bob  just  as  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  give  up 
and  go  to  the  bottom. 

We  then  fastened  the  oar  down  again,  and  I  held  it  with 

one  hand  and  my  fishing-line  with  the  other.  Suddenly  each 

of  us  had  a  splendid  bite,  and  we  both  pulled  in  vigorously. 

The  fish  seemed  to  struggle  violently  all  the  way  to  the 

surface;  but  when  the  hooks  came  into  view,  we  found 

that  our  lines  were  entangled,  and  that  neither  of  us  had  a 
14 


168 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


fish.  The  next  time  Bob  attempted  to  take  in  his  line  his 
hook  caught  upon  the  bottom ;  and  when,  in  a  fit  of  exas¬ 
peration,  he  tried  to 
jerk  it  loose,  the  cord 
snapped  and  the  hopes 
of  the  fisherman  were 
blasted  for  that  day. 
Then,  as  Bob  tipped 
the  boat  while  he  wash¬ 
ed  his  hands,  the  bait- 
box  fell  overboard,  and 
so  matters  came  to  a 
definite  conclusion,  and  we  determined  to  quit. 

When  we  started  for  home,  the  tide  had  turned,  and  we 
did  not  reach  town  until  dark.  The  man  who  owned  the 
craft  had  just  telegraphed  to  Delaware  City  for  the  purpose 
of  ascertaining  if  two  sus¬ 
picious  men  had  landed 
there  and  attempted  to  sell 
a  boat.  He  compelled  me 
to  pay  half  a  day’s  hire  ex¬ 
tra  for  staying  out  so  late, 
together  with  the  cost  of  the 
telegram. 

I  consider  it  beneath  me 
to  notice  the  unnecessary 
violence  of  his  language  or 
the  insolence  of  his  criti¬ 
cisms  upon  our  skill  as  fish¬ 
ermen. 

This  I  could  have  borne 
with  patience,  but  it  was  hard,  very,  very  hard,  upon  arriv¬ 
ing  home,  to  have  Mrs.  Adeler  come  to  the  door  with  a 
smile  upon  her  face  and  ask,  “  Where  are  the  fish  ?”  while 


THE  SUFFERINGS  OF  FISHERMEN. 


169 


she  informed  us  that  she  had  asked  the  Magruders  over 
to  tea,  and  had  depended  upon  us  to  supply  the  principal 
dish,  so  that  now  she  had  not  a  thing  in  the  house  that  she 
could  cook. 

“Mrs.  Adeler,  we  return  with  two  diminutive  sunfish, 
one  demoralized  ham-sandwich,  two  crimson  noses  and  a 
thorough,  sincere,  whole-souled  and  earnest  disgust  for  the 
wretched  business  which  some  men  choose  to  regard  in  the 
light  of  amusement.  No,  Mrs.  Adeler,  we  have  no  fish  that 
are  worthy  of  the  name,  and  hereafter  when 
we  wish  to  have  some,  we  will  purchase  them 
from  the  unhappy  beings  who  catch  them.  A 
fisherman  deserves  all  the  money  he  can  get, 
my  dear.  I  wouldn’t  be  a  professional  piscator 
for  the  mines  of  Golconda  and  the  wealth  of  a  nabob  to 
boot.” 

Our  unfortunate  experiences  upon  the  river  tempt  me  to 
refer  in  detail  to  the  ills  to  which  amateur  fishermen,  as  a 
class,  are  exposed.  The  pleasures  of  angling  have  been  said 
and  sung  by  a  vast  multitude  of  sentimental  people  reaching 
all  the  way  from  old  Izaak  Walton  to  Mr.  Prime;  but  the 
story  of  the  suffering  that  too  often  accompanies  the  sport 
has  not  yet  been  narrated  with  a  sufficient  amount  of  vigor. 
The  martyr  fishermen  have  been  too  long  kept  in  the  back¬ 
ground.  The  time  has  come  for  them  to  have  a  hearing.  I 
have  chosen  to  present  their  complaint  in  the  somewhat 
singular  form  of  a  letter  to  Mr.  Benjamin  F.  Butler,  because 
at  the  time  of  the  negotiation  of  the  Washington  treaty  he 
manifested  much  indignation  at  the  wrongs  heaped  upon 
American  fishermen  by  that  instrument,  and  because  he  is 
a  very  suitable  person  to  figure  in  a  remonstrance  which  has 
about  it  perhaps  a  slight  flavor  of  burlesque,  even  though  it 
is  a  narrative  of  real  misery. 


170 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


The  Sorrows  of  the  Fisherman. 

Dear  General  :  I  have  given  a  great  deal  of  reflection, 
lately,  to  the  fishery  question,  and  I  am  convinced  that  your 
opposition  to  the  fishery  clauses  of  the  Washington  treaty 
had  a  basis  of  sound  common  sense.  The  treaty,  in  my 
opinion,  wholly  fails  to  consider  in  a  spirit  of  wise  states¬ 
manship  the  causes  which  move  the  fisherman  to  complaint, 
and  supplies  no  adequate  means  for  securing  their  removal. 
Permit  me  to  suggest  to  you  the  propriety  of  urging  upon  the 
government  the  reassembling  of  the  joint  high  commission 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a  reconsideration  of  the  fishery 
question  with  the  new  light  which  I  propose  to  shed  upon  it. 

My  experience  in  fishing  has  convinced  me  that  one  of  the 
most  serious  of  the  primary  obstacles  to  be  overcome  is  the 
difficulty  of  procuring  worms.  Perhaps  you  may  have  ob¬ 
served  an  enthusiastic  fisherman  in  pursuit  of  worms  ?  The 
day  is  always  warm,  and  his  performance  upon  the  shovel 
conduces  to  profuse  perspiration.  He  seems  never  to  strike 
precisely  the  spot  where  the  worms  frolic.  He  labors  with 
tremendous  energy  until  he  has  excavated  a  couple  of  cellars 
and  a  rifle-pit,  from  which  he  rescues  but  two  or  three  worms, 
while  all  around  him  the  earth  is  perforated  with  holes,  into 

which  other  vermicular  crea¬ 
tures  are  perceived  to  disappear 
before  he  can  lay  his  hands  on 
them.  The  alacrity  with  which 
a  worm  draws  himself  into  a 
hole  in  the  ground,  and  dives 
down  apparently  to  the  centre 
of  the  globe,  when  you  want 
him,  is  a  constant  source  of 
aggravation  to  the  fisherman.  The  fishery  interests  suffer  on 
account  of  it. 


IN  RELATION  TO  NIBBLES. 


171 


If  a  joint  high  commission  would  address  itself  in  a  con¬ 
ciliatory  spirit  to  the  work  of  obtaining  concerted  action 
from  the  civilized  nations  of  the  world  upon  the 
subject  of  the  reformation  of  worms,  blessed 
results  would  undoubtedly  accrue.  I  know  a 
fisherman  who  could  make  a  speech  in  Congress 
on  the  subject  of  worms  which  would  make  that 
body  weep  the  rotunda  full  of  tears. 

And  even  when  bait  has  been  secured,  you  are  aware, 
perhaps,  that  the  fisherman  will  sit  for  hours  upon  the  bank 
of  the  stream  watching  his  cork 
until  he  is  nearly  blinded,  and 
until  his  head  swims.  At  last, 
when  his  patience  is  exhausted 
and  he  is  convinced  that  there 
are  no  fish  about,  he  pulls  up 
for  the  purpose  of  trying  another 
spot,  and  finds  that  some  disre¬ 
putable  fish  has  sucked  the  bait 
off  the  hook  an  hour  before 
without  making  a  perceptible 
nibble. 

Perhaps  a  clause  in  the  treaty 
upon  the  general  subject  of  nibbles  might  be  of  service.  I 
think  a  paragraph  could  be  constructed  on  nibbles  which 
would  create  more  amazement  and  produce  a 
greater  sensational  effect  in  diplomatic  circles 
than  anything  that  ever  appeared  in  a  treaty. 
The  introduction  of  the  subject  of  nibbles  to  in¬ 
ternational  law  would  give  that  science  refresh¬ 
ing  variety  and  probably  prevent  devastating  wars. 

It  is  another  cause  of  suffering  to  the  fisherman  that  when 
he  has  thrown  in  again,  and  has  waited  an  hour  for  a  bite, 

and  waited  in  vain,  he  considers  it  safe  to  drop  his  rod  fqr  a 
u* 


CUR.  SC* 


172 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


moment,  so  that  he  can  light  his  pipe.  It  is  a  peculiar  cir¬ 
cumstance,  I  say,  that  just  as  he 
has  struck  his  last  match  he  al¬ 
ways  gets  the  most  vigorous  bite 
of  the  whole  day.  The  cork  pulls 
under  in  the  most  exciting  man¬ 
ner  several  times,  and  only  floats 
up  again  permanently  at  the  mo¬ 
ment  when  the  angler  seizes  his 
rod  in  eager  haste  and  finds  that 
the  fish  is  gone. 

It  is  this  kind  of  thing  that 
makes  the  fisherman  feel  as  if  he 
would  be  relieved  by  the  use  of 


violent  language.  The  British 
premier,  I  am  sure,  will  consent  to  the  negotiation  of  another 
treaty  if  you  will  press  this  matter  on  him.  He  must  see  at 
once  that  unless  bites  are  arranged  with  a  greater  regard  for 
the  feelings  of  the  fisherman  and  for  the  sanctity  of  the  law 
against  profane  swearing,  the  fishery  interests  will  languisl 
and  the  crop  prove  a  humiliating  failure. 

I  have  often  remarked,  too,  that  when  the  fisherman  has 
nearly  landed  a  fish,  which  drops  off  the  hook  just  as  it  ap¬ 
pears  to  be  safe,  he  collects  all  his  energies  for  the  next  bite. 
He  grasps  the  rod  tightly  with  both  hands,  he  rises  and 
plants  his  legs  firmly  upon  the  ground,  he  watches  the  cork 
carefully,  with  his  lips  compressed  and  with  fiery  determina¬ 
tion  gleaming  from  his  eyes.  The  cork  moves  slightly.  It 
goes  under ;  he  has  a  good  bite ;  he  pulls  up  with  frightful 
energy,  determined  not  to  lose  this  one,  and  the  next  in¬ 
stant  his  line  hits  the  limb  of  the  tree  overhead,  and  winds 
around  it  as  closely  as  if  it  was  put  there  on  purpose  to 
splice  that  limb,  so  as  to  make  it  perfectly  secure  throughout 
the  unending  ages  of  eternity. 


THE  PECULIARITIES  OF  EELS. 


17  9 


I  always  excuse  the  man  for  taking  a  gloomy  view  of 
life,  and  for  saying  over  with  ardor  and  vehemence  his  en^ 
tire  reserve  stock  of  objurga¬ 
tions  as  he  shins  up  the  tree. 

But  has  the  government  no 

missions  if  these  things  are 
to  be  allowed?  We  have 
made  the  republic  successful, 
we  have  fought  mighty  bat¬ 
tles,  we  have  paid  millions 
of  indebtedness  and  we  have 
given  the  civilization  of  the 
world  a  tremendous  impulse 
forward ;  now  let  us  do  some¬ 
thing  for  the  disgusted  fish¬ 
erman  who  has  to  fumble 
around  out  on  that  limb.  Let  us  have  a  special  treaty  on 
that  particular  branch  of  the  subject. 

If  something  could  be  done  in  relation  to  eels,  I  think  the 
government  of  our  beloved  country  would  rest  upon  a  foun¬ 
dation  of  greater  stability  and  have  a  more  permanent  hold 
upon  popular  affection.  Perhaps  you  have  fished  for  eels? 
The  eel  gently  pulls  the  cork  under  and  lets  go.  You  pull 
up  suddenly,  and  throw  in  again.  The  eel  tenderly  draws 
the  cork  beneath  the  surface,  and,  wild  with  fury,  you  jerk 
out  your  line  a  second  time.  This  exhilarating  exercise  con¬ 
tinues  for  some  moments,  and  you  make  up  your  mind  that 
existence  will  be  a  burden,  the  world  a  hollow  sham,  and 
groceries  and  marketing  useless  baubles,  unless  you  catch 
that  eel.  Finally  you  do  hook  him  and  draw  him  out.  He 
is  active,  playful  and  vivacious.  He  wriggles;  he  forms 
himself  in  quick  succession  into  S’s,  C’s  and  Q’s.  He  points 


duty  in  the  matter  ?  What 
is  the  use  of  joint  high  com- 


174 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


to  all  the  four  quarters  of  the  compass  at  once.  He  swal¬ 
lows  himself  and  spits  himself  out.  He  wraps  himself 

around  your  boot  and  shoots  up 
your  leg  and  covers  your  trow- 
sers  with  slime,  and  tangles  your 
line  into  a  mess  by  the  side  of 
which  the  Gordian  knot  was  the 
perfection  of  simpli¬ 
city.  When  you  get 
your  foot  firmly  on 
him,  you  find  that  he 
has  swallowed  the 
hook,  and  you  have  to  cut  him 
completely  open,  from  head  to 
tail,  to  get  the  hook  out,  and 
then,  as  likely  as  not,  the  eel  will 
flip  back  into  the  water  and  escape.  I  think  eels  rarely  die. 

A  joint  high  commission  which  would  devote  itself  with 
philanthropic  ardor  and  untiring  energy  to  a  dispassionate 
consideration  of  the  subject  of  the  immortality  of  eels  might, 
perhaps,  achieve  important  results.  Any  settlement  of  the 
fishery  question  which  overlooked  the  hideous  wickedness  of 
eels  would  be  a  cruel  mockery  of  human  woe. 

But  for  pure  pathos,  I  can  conceive  of  nothing  that  will 
equal  the  anguish  of  the  fisherman  when  he  imagines  he  has 
a  catfish  upon  his  hook.  His  cork  is  drawn  slowly  under 
the  surface,  and  it  goes  down,  down,  down,  until  it  sinks  com¬ 
pletely  out  of  sight.  He  is  certain  it  is  a  catfish — they  al¬ 
ways  pull  in  this  manner,  he  says ;  and  he  draws  in  his  line 
gently,  while  the  fish  tugs  and  pulls  at  the  other  end. 
Gradually,  v-e-r-y  gradually,  the  fisherman  pulls  it  in,  in 
order  to  be  sure  to  keep  the  prey  upon  the  hook.  It  is 
evidently  a  very  large  fish,  and  he  is  determined  to  land 
it  through  the  shallow  water,  so  that  it  cannot  drop  back 


THAT  BOY. 


175 


and  escape.  Slowly  it  comes  up,  and  just  as  the  hook  nears 
the  surface  the  angler  gives  a  sudden  jerk,  and  out  comes  a 
terrific  snag  with  a  dozen  branches 
and  covered  with  mud.  And 
meanwhile,  during  all  the  fisher¬ 
man’s  troubles,  there  is  that  infa¬ 
mous  small  boy  sitting  on  the  op¬ 
posite  bank  of  the  creek  pulling 
up  fish  by  the  dozen  with  a  pin- 
hook  and  some  wrapping  twine. 

It  would  gratify  me  if  the  new 
treaty  would  devote  one  clause  to 
a  definite  settlement  of  the  ques¬ 
tion  of  the  bearing  of  snags  upon 
the  miseries  of  mankind,  and 
about  eight  stupendous  clauses 
to  a  determination  of  the  fate  that  is  deserved  by  that  boy. 
My  own  humanitarian  tendencies  incline  me  to  urge  that  he 

should  be  summarily  shot.  If  a 
boy  with  a  pin-hook  is  to  be  al¬ 
lowed  thus  to  destroy  the  peace 
of  older  American  citizens,  the 
sooner  we  ask  some  efficient  and 
reliable  despot  to  come  over 
here  and  break  up  the  govern¬ 
ment  and  trample  on  us,  the 
happier  we  shall  be. 

I  commend  the  subject  to  your 
enlightened  consideration,  and  ask  for  an  earnest  appeal  to 
the  next  Congress  in  behalf  of  suffering  fishermen.  If  we 
cannot  obtain  redress  by  peaceful  means,  let  us  have  it  by 
force.  I  am  ready  to  overturn  the  government,  massacre 
the  people,  burn  the  cities  and  carry  desolation,  devastation 
and  death  into  every  home  in  the  la^d,  rather  than  to  per- 


176 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


mit  these  outrages  against  justice  longer  to  continue  and  these 
unhappy  men  to  endure  further  persecution. 

There  are  indications  that  the  course  of  Bob  Parker’s 
true  love  will  not  run  entirely  smooth.  The  officers  sta¬ 
tioned  at  Fort  Delaware,  below  here,  come  up  to  the  village 
constantly  upon  social  errands,  and  they  are  exceedingly' 
popular  with  the  young  ladies.  Lieutenant  Smiley  is,  I 
think,  the  favorite ;  and  as  he  has  become  a  somewhat  fre¬ 
quent  visitor  at  Magruder’s,  Bob’s  jealousy  has  been  aroused. 
He  hates  Smiley  with  a  certain  deadly  hatred.  Mr.  Parker 
is  not  naturally  warlike  in  his  tendencies,  but  I  believe  he 
would  willingly  engage  in  hostilities  with  the  lieutenant  with 
an  utterly  reckless  disregard  of  the  consequences. 

Smiley  comes  to  see  us  sometimes ;  and  Bob,  I  fear,  re¬ 
gards  even  this  family  with  gloom  and  suspicion  because  we 
receive  the  lieutenant  courteously.  But  he  says  very  little 
upon  the  subject;  for  when  he  begins  to  abuse  Smiley,  I 
always  ask  him  why  he  does  not  propose  to  Miss  Magruder 
at  once  and  thus  relieve  himself  from  his  agony  of  apprehen¬ 
sion.  Then  he  beats  a  retreat.  He  would  rather  face  a 
regiment  of  Smileys  armed  with  Dahlgren  guns  than  to  dis¬ 
cuss  the  subject  of  his  cowardice  respecting  the  beautiful 
Magruder. 

We  like  the  lieutenant  well  enough,  and  we  should  like 
him  better  but  for  his  propensity  for  telling  incredible  stories. 
He  was  in  the  naval  service  for  eight  or  ten  years ;  and  when 
he  undertakes  to  give  accounts  of  his  adventures,  he  is  very 
apt  to  introduce  anecdotes  of  which  Munchausen  would  have 
been  ashamed.  It  is  one  of  Smiley’s  favorite  theories  that 
he  sojourned  for  a  considerable  period  among  the  Fiji 
Islands,  and  many  of  his  narratives  relate  his  experiences 
in  that  region.  There  was  a  missionary  meeting  at  the 
church  a  night  or  two  ago,  and  the  lieutenant,  having  been 


MR.  BLODGETT, \  MISSIONARY. 


177 


defeated  by  Bob  in  his  attempt  to  escort  Miss  Magruder  to 
her  home,  came  to  our  house ;  and  very  naturally  he  began 
the  conversation  with  a  story  of  missionary 
enterprise  with  which  he  assumed  to  have  be¬ 
come  familiar  during  his  visit  to  the  South 
Seas. 

“  Mr.  Adeler,”  he  said,  “  I  was  very  much 
interested  in  the  proceedings  at  that  meeting 
to-night,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  there  is  one 
defect  in  the  system  of  preparing  men  for  the 
work  of  propagating  the  gospel  among  the 
heathen.” 

“  What  is  that?” 

“  Why  they  ought 
to  teach  the  science 
of  mesmerism  in  the 
divinity  schools.” 

“  I  don’t  exactly 
understand  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  the — ” 

“  Perhaps  you  never  heard  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Blodgett,  missionary 
to  the  Fiji  Islands?  Well,  he 
saved  his  life  once  merely  by  practicing  mesmerism.  He 
has  told  me  the  story  often.” 

“  I  should  like  to  hear  it.” 

“  It  seems  that  Blodgett  in  his  sinful  youth  had  been 
a  traveling  professor  of  mesmerism ;  but  he  had  aban¬ 
doned  the  business  to  go  into  the  ministry  and  to  preach 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


178 


to  the  heathen  in  Fiji.  Well, 
his  church  out  there  got  up 
a  Sunday-school  picnic,  it  ap¬ 
pears  ;  and  when  the  people 
all  arrived  upon  the  ground, 
they  learned  that  the  provis¬ 
ions  had  been  forgotten.  A 
meeting  of  the  vestry  was 
called,  and  after  a  brief  con¬ 
sultation  it  was  decided  that 
the  only  thing  which  could 
be  done  to  meet  the  emer¬ 
gency  was  to  barbecue  the 
minister.  The  inducement 


5, 


this 


the 


course  was  all 
stronger  because  his  salary 
was  six  months  in  arrears,  and  the  church  w7as  entirely  out 
of  funds.  So  they  built  a  huge  lire;  and  seizing  Blodgett, 
they  began  to  strip  him  and  to  stick  him  with  forks. 


A  GENEROUS  REPAST. 


179 


“  In  order  to  save  himself,  he  immediately  mesmerized  each 
member  of  the  vestry;  and  when  they  were  all  fixed,  he 
called  up  the  Sunday-school  scholars,  class  by  class,  and 
put  them  comfortably  to  sleep.  Having  them  all  com¬ 
pletely  under  his  influence,  he  gave  an  entire  class  to  each 
one  of  the  vestrymen,  and  assured  them  that  the  innocent 
children  were  the  most  luscious  kind  of  missionary.  There¬ 
upon  the  hypnotized  vestry  im¬ 
mediately  ate  up  the  somnambu¬ 
listic  Sunday-school  and  picked 
the  bones  clean.  Blodgett  was 
a  very  conscientious  man  in  the 
performance  of  his  sacerdotal 
functions,  so  he  read  the  funeral 
service  over  each  class  as  it  dis¬ 
appeared.” 

“  Bather  an  excessive  meal,  I  should  say.” 

“  Yes,  but  they  are  large  eaters,  the  Fijians.  You  might 
say  that  their  appetites  are,  in  a  certain  sense,  robust.” 

“  I  should  imagine  that  such  was  the  case.  But  proceed.” 

“  Well,  when  the  little  ones  were  gone,  Blodgett  whispered 

to  the  magnetized  wardens  that 
their  fellow- vestry  men  were  also 
succulent  propagators  of  Chris¬ 
tianity;  whereupon  the  uncon¬ 
scious  wardens  fell  upon  their 
colleagues,  and  in  a  few  moments 
nearly  the  whole  vestry  was  in 
the  process  of  assimilation.  There 
remained  now  but  the  two  ward¬ 
ens,  and  Blodgett,  having  pre¬ 
vailed  upon  the  younger  and 
more  vigorous  of  the  two  to  eat 
the  other,  then  seized  the  slumbering  body  of  his  converted 
15 


180 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


but  erring  brother  and  stood  it  on  its  head  in  the  fire.  The 
Rev.  Mr.  Blodgett  went  away  alone  from 
that  picnic,  and  he  went  with  a  heavy 
heart.  When  he  got  home,  they  asked 
where  the  rest  of  the  folks  were,  and  he 
said  they  were  enjoying  themselves  up  there 
in  the  woods  in  their  own  quiet,  innocent  way, 
but  that  he  had  to  come  away  in  order  to 
visit  a  sick  friend  who  stood  in  need  of  his 
ministrations.  And  then  he  packed  his 
trunk  and  borrowed  a  canoe  and  paddled 
away  to  our  ship,  determined  to  seek  some  sunnier 


clime,  where  the  heathen  rage  less  furiously,  and  where 
the  popular  appetite  for  warm  clergyman  is  not  so  intensely 
vivid.” 

“  That  is  a  very  remarkable  narrative,  lieutenant — very 
remarkable  indeed !” 

“  Yes.  But  poor  Mott  was  not  so  lucky.” 

u  Who  was  Mott?” 

“  Why  the  Rev.  Peter  Mott — he  was  a  missionary  engaged 
upon  one  of  the  other  islands.  He  knew  nothing  of  mes¬ 
merism;  and  when  his  choir  attacked  him  upon  the  way 


A  PAINFUL  DUTY. 


181 


home  from  church  one  day,  he  was  unable  to  defend  him¬ 
self,  and  they  ate  him.” 

“  How  painful !” 

“I  had  to  carry  the  mourn¬ 
ful  news  to  Mrs.  Mott,  who 
lived  in  San  Francisco.  When 
we  reached  that  port,  I  called 
upon  her  and  performed  the 
unpleasant  duty.  The  manner 
in  which  she  received’  the  in- 
telligence  was,  1  conceive,  m  en^  ~~  /> 

every  way  extraordinary.  She 

cried,  of  course,  and  I  offered  her  what  consolation  I  could 
under  the  circumstances.  I  alluded  to  the  fact  that  all  men 
must  die  at  any  rate,  and  dear  Mott,  let  us  hope,  had  gone 
to  a  better  world  than  this  one  of  sorrow  and  trouble  and 
so  forth. 

“  Mrs.  Mott  in  reply  said,  with  a  voice  broken  with  sobs  : 


182 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


‘  It  isn’t  that — oh,  it  isn’t  that.  I  know  he  is  better  off;  I’m 
sure  he  is  happier ;  but  you  know  what  a  very  particular 
man  he  was,  and  oh,  Mr.  Smiley,  I  fear  that  those  brutal 
savages  boiled  him  with  cabbage.’  There  was  no  use  trying 
to  assuage  her  grief  under  such  circumstances,  so  I  shook 
hands  with  her  and  left.  But  it  was  an  odd  idea.  Mott 
with  cabbage !  I  thought  as  I  came  away  that  he  would 
have  tasted  better  with  the  merest  flavor  of  onion.” 

When  Lieutenant  Smiley  bade  us  good-night,  I  said, 

“  Mrs.  Adeler,  what  do  you  think  of  that  young  man  ?” 

“  I  think,”  she  said,  “  that  he  tells  the  most  dreadful  false¬ 
hoods  I  ever  listened  to.  It  will  be  a  burning  shame  if  he 
succeeds  in  cutting  out  Robert  with  Miss  Magruder.” 

“  Mrs.  Adeler,  he  shall  not  do  that.  Bob  shall  have  Miss 
Magruder  at  all  hazards.  If  he  does  not  propose  to  her 
shortly,  I  shall  go  down  and  broach  the  subject  to  her  my¬ 
self.  We  must  defeat  Smiley  even  if  we  have  to  violate  all 
the  rules  of  propriety  to  achieve  that  result.” 


CHAPTER  XII. 


How  the  Plumber  Fixed  my  Boiler — A  Vexatious  Busi¬ 
ness — How  he  didn’t  come  to  Time,  and  what  the  Ul¬ 
timate  Result  was — An  Accident,  and  the  Pathetic 
Story  of  Young  Chubb — Reminiscences  of  General 
Chubb — The  Eccentricities  of  an  Absent-minded  Man 
— The  Rivals — Parker  versus  Smiley. 

3  have  had  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  recently  with  our 
kitchen  boiler,  which  is 
built  into  the  wall  over  the 
range.  It  sprang  aleak  a 
few  weeks  ago,  and  the  as¬ 
sistance  of  a  plumber  had 
to  be  invoked  for  the  pur¬ 
pose  of  repairing  it.  I  sent 
for  the  plumber,  and  after 
examining  the  boiler,  he  in¬ 
structed  the  servant  to  let 
the  fire  go  out  that  night, 
so  that  he  could  begin  oper¬ 
ations  early  the  next  morn¬ 
ing.  His  order  was  obeyed,  but  in  the  morning  the  plumber 
failed  to  appear.  We  had  a  cold  and  very  uncomfortable 
breakfast,  and  on  my  way  to  the  depot  I  overtook  the 
plumber  going  in  the  same  direction.  He  said  he  was  sorry 
to  disappoint  me,  but  he  was  called  suddenly  out  of  town  on 
imperative  business,  and  he  would  have  to  ask  me  to  wait 
until  the  next  morning,  when  he  would  be  promptly  on  hand 
with  his  men.  So  we  had  no  fire  in  the  range  upon  that 
15  *  183 


% 


184 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


day,  and  the  family  breakfasted  again  upon  cool  viands 
without  being  cheered  with  a  view  of  the  plumber.  Upon 


calling  at  the  plumber’s  shop  to  ascertain  why  he  had  not 
fulfilled  his  promise,  I  was  informed  by  the  clerk  that  he 
had  returned,  but  that  he  was  compelled  to 
go  over  to  Wilmington.  The  man  seemed 
so  thoroughly  in  earnest  in  his  assertion  that 
the  plumber  positively  would  attend  to  my 
boiler  upon  the  following  morning  that  we 
permitted  the  range  to  remain  untouched,  and 
for  the  third  time  we  broke  our  fast  with  a 
frigid  repast.  But  the  plumber  and  his  as¬ 
sistants  did  not 
come. 

As  it  seemed  to  be  wholly 
impossible  to  depend  upon 
these  faithless  artisans,  our 
cook  was  instructed  to  bring 
the  range  into  service  again 
without  waiting  longer  for  re¬ 
pairs,  and  to  give  the  family  a 
properly  prepared  meal  in  the  morning.  While  we  were 


^LV  INDIGNANT  PLUMBER. 


185 


at  breakfast  there  was  a  knock  at  the  gate,  and  presently  we 
perceived  the  plumber  and  his  men  coming  up  the  yard  with 
a  general  assortment  of  tools  and  materials.  The  range  at 
the  moment  of  his  entrance 
to  the  kitchen  was  red  hot  ; 
and  when  he  realized  the 
fact,  he  flung  his  tools  on 
the  floor  and  expressed  his 
indignation  in  the  most  vio¬ 
lent  and  improper  language,  1 
while  his  attendant  fiends 
sat  around  in  the  chairs  and 
growled  in  sympathy  with 
their  chief.  When  I  ap¬ 
peared  upon  the  scene,  the 
plumber  addressed  me  with 
the  air  of  a  man  who  had 
suffered  a  great  and  irrepa¬ 
rable  wrong  at  my  hands, 
and  he  really  displayed  so  much  feeling  that  for  a  few  mo¬ 
ments  I  had  an  indistinct  consciousness  that  I  had  somehow 
been  guilty  of  an  act  of  gross  injustice  to  an  unfortunate  and 

persecuted  fellow-being.  Be¬ 
fore  I  could  recover  myself  suf¬ 
ficiently  to  present  my  side  of 
the  case  with  the  force  properly 
belonging  to  it,  the  plumbers 
marched  into  the  yard,  where 
they  tossed  a  quantity  of  ma¬ 
chinery  and  tools  and  lead  pipe 
under  the  shed,  and  then  left. 
We  had  no  fire  in  the  range 
the  next  morning,  but  the  plumbers  did  not  come  until  four 
o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  then  they  merely  dumped  a 


186 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


cart  load  of  lime-boxes  and  hoes  upon  the  asparagus  bed  and 
went  home.  An  interval  of  four  days  elapsed  before  we 
heard  of  them  again ;  and  meanwhile  the  cook  twice  nearly 
killed  herself  by  stumbling  over  the  tools  while  going  out 
into  the  shed  in  the  dark.  One  morning,  however,  the  gang 
arrived  before  I  had  risen;  and  when  I  came  down  to  break¬ 
fast,  I  found  that  they  had  made  a  mortar  bed  on  our  best 
grass  plot,  and  had  closed  up  the  principal  garden  walk  with 
a  couple  of  wagon  loads  of  sand.  I  endured  this  patiently 


because  it  seemed  to  promise  speedy  performance  of  the 
work.  The  plumbers,  however,  went  away  at  about  nine 
o’clock,  and  the  only  reason  we  had  for  supposing  they  had 
not  forgotten  us  was  that  a  man  with  a  cart  called  in  the 
afternoon  and  shot  a  quantity  of  bricks  down 
upon  the  pavement  in  such  a  position  that  no¬ 
body  could  go  in  or  out  of  the  front  gate.  Two 
days  afterward  the  plumbers  came  and  began 
to  make  a  genuine  effort  to  reach  the  boiler.  It 
was  buried  in  the  wall  in  such  a  manner  that  it  was  wholly 
inaccessible  by  any  other  method  than  by  the  removal  of  the 
bricks  from  the  outside.  The  man  who  erected  the  house 
evidently  was  a  party  with  the  plumber  to  a  conspiracy  to 


WHY  HE  DIDN’T  COME.  187 

give  the  latter  individual  something  to  do.  They  labored 
right  valiantly  at  the  wall,  and  by  supper-time  they  had  re¬ 
moved  at  least  twelve  square  feet  of  it,  making  a  hole  large 
enough  to  have  admitted  a  locomotive.  Then  they  took 


oat  the  old  boiler  and  went  away,  leaving  a  most  discourag¬ 
ing  mass  of  rubbish  lying  about  the  yard. 

That  was  the  last  we  saw  of  them  for  more  than  a  week. 
Whenever  1  went  after  the  plumber  for  the  purpose  of  per¬ 
suading  him  to  hasten  the  work,  I  learned  that  he  had  been 
summoned  to  Philadelphia  as  a  witness  in  a  court  case,  or 
that  he  had  gone  to  his  aunt’s  funeral,  or  that  he  was  taking 
a  holiday  because  it  was  his  wife’s  birthday,  or  that  he  had 
a  sore  eye.  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  why  the 
house  was  not  robbed.  An  entire  brigade  of  burglars  might 
have  entered  the  cottage  and  frolicked  among  its  treasures 
without  any  difficulty.  I  did  propose  at  first  that  Bob  and 
I  should  procure  revolvers  and  take  watch  and  watch  every 


188 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


night  until  the  breach  in  the  wall  should  be  repaired ;  but 
Mr.  Parker  did  not  regard  the  plan  with  enthusiasm,  and  it 

was  abandoned.  We  had  to 
content  ourselves  with  fastening 
the  inner  door  of  the  kitchen  as 
securely  as  possible,  and  we  were 
not  molested.  But  we  were 
nervous.  Mrs. 

« 

Adeler,  I  think, 
assured  me  posi¬ 
tively  at  least 
twice  every  night 
that  she  heard  robbers  on  the  stairs,  and  entreated  me  not  to 
go  out  after  them ;  and  I  never  did. 

Finally  the  men  came  and  began  to  fill  the  hole  with  new 
bricks.  That  evening  the  plumber  walked  into  my  parlor 
with  mud  and  mortar  on  his  boots,  and  informed  me  that 

by  an  unfortunate  mistake  the 
hole  left  for  the  boiler  by  the 
bricklayers  was  far  too  small, 
and  he  could  not  insert  the 
boiler  without  taking  the  wall 
down  again. 

“  Mr.  Nippers,”  I  said,  "don’t 
you  think  it  would  be  a  good 
idea  for  me  to  engage  you  per¬ 
manently  to  labor  upon  that 
boiler?  From  the  manner  in 
which  this  business  has  been 
conducted,  I  infer  that  I  can 
finally  be  rid  of  annoyance  about  such  matters  by  employing 
a  perennial  plumber  to  live  for  ever  in  my  back  yard,  and 
to  spend  the  unending  cycles  of  eternity  banging  boilers  and 
demolishing  walls.” 


NIPPERS  SWEARS  AN  OATH. 


189 


Mr.  Nippers  said,  with  apparent  seriousness,  that  he  thought 
it  would  be  a  first-rate  thing. 

“  Mr.  Nippers,  I  am  going  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  I  do  not 
insist  upon  compliance  with  my  request.  I  know  that  I  am 
at  your  mercy.  Nippers,  you  have  me,  and  I  submit  patiently 
to  my  fate.  But  my  family  is  suffering  from  cold,  we  are  ex¬ 
posed  to  the  ravages  of  thieves,  we  are  deprived  of  the  means 
of  cooking  our  food  properly,  and  we  are  made  generally  un¬ 


comfortable  by  the  condition  of  our  kitchen.  I  ask  you,\ 
therefore,  as  a  personal  favor  to  a  man  who  wishes  you  pros¬ 
perity  here  and  felicity  hereafter,  and  who  means  to  settle 
your  bill  promptly,  to  fix  that  boiler  at  once.” 

Mr.  Nippers  thereupon  said  that  he  always  liked  me,  and 
he  swore  a  solemn  oath  that  he  would  complete  the  job  next 
day  without  fail.  That  was  on  Tuesday.  Neither  Nip¬ 
pers  nor  his  men  came  again  until  Saturday,  and  then  they 
put  the  boiler  in  its  place  and  went  away,  leaving  four  or  five 
cart  loads  of  ruins  in  the  yard.  On  Sunday  the  boiler  began 
to  leak  as  badly  as  ever,  and  I  feel  sure  Nippers  must  have 
set  the  old  one  in  again,  although  when  he  called  early  Mon¬ 
day  morning  with  a  bill  for  $237y^-,  which  he  wranted  at 
once  because  he  had  a  note  to  meet,  he  declared  upon  his 


190 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


honor  that  the  boiler  was  a  new  one,  and  that  it  would  not 
leak  under  a  pressure  of  one  thousand  pounds  to  the  square 
inch. 

I  am  going  to  buy  a  cooking  stove,  and  defy  Nippers  and 
the  entire  plumbing  fraternity. 

Cooley’s  boy  has  been  in  trouble  again.  Yesterday  morn¬ 
ing  Mrs.  Adeler  heard  loud  screaming  in  Cooley’s  yard,  and 
in  a  few  moments  a  servant  came  to  say  that 
Mrs.  Cooley  wished  to  see  Mrs.  Adeler  at  once. 

Mrs.  A.  hurried  over  there,  supposing  that  some¬ 
thing  terrible  had  happened.  She  found  Mrs. 

Cooley  shaking  her  boy  and  crying,  while  the 
lad  stood,  the  picture  of  misery  and  fright,  his  eyes  protrud¬ 
ing  from  his  head  and  his 
hands  holding  his  stomach. 
Mrs.  Cooley  explained  in  a 
voice  broken  with  sobs 
that  Henry  had  been  play¬ 
ing  with  a  small  “mouth 
organ,”  and  had  accident¬ 
ally  swallowed  it.  The  case 
was  somewhat  peculiar ;  and 
as  Mrs.  Adeler  was  not  fa¬ 
miliar  with  the  professional 
methods  which  are  adopted 
in  such  emergencies,  she  re¬ 
commended  simply  a  liberal 
use  of  mustard  and  warm  water.  The  application  was 
ultimately  successful,  and  the  missing  musical  instrument 
was  surrendered  by  the  boy.  The  incident  is  neither  inter¬ 
esting  nor  remarkable,  and  I  certainly  should  not  have  men¬ 
tioned  it  but  for  the  fact  that  it  had  a  result  whi-  h  is  per¬ 
haps  worth  chronicling  here. 


THE  FATE  OF  YOUNG  CHUBB. 


191 


Last  evening  Bob  came  into  the  sitting-room  and  behaved 
in  a  manner  which  led  me  to  believe  that  he  had  something 
on  his  mind.  I  asked  him  if  anything  was  the  matter.  He 
said, 

“Well,  no;  not  exactly.  The  fact  is  I’ve  been  thinking 
about  that  accident  to  Cooley’s  boy,  and  it  kind  of  suggested 
something  to  me.” 

“  What  was  the  nature  of  the  suggestion  ?” 

“  I’ve  jotted  it  down  on  paper.  I’ve  half  a 
notion  to  send  it  to  the  Argus  if  you  think  it’s 
good  enough,  and  that’s  what  I  want  to  find 
out.  I  want  to  hear  your  opinion  of  the  story. 
I  don’t  do  much  of  this  sort  of  thing,  and  I’m 
kind  of  shy  about  it.  Shall  I  read  it  ?” 

“  Of  course ;  let  us  hear  it.” 

“  I’m  going  to  call  it  1  The  Fate  of  Young 
Chubb.’  I  expect  it’ll  make  old  Cooley  mad  as 
fury  when  he  sees  it.  It  is  founded  upon  the 
catastrophe  of  which  his  boy  was  the  victim.” 

The  Fate  of  Young  Chubb. 

When  Mr.  Chubb,  the  elder,  returned  from  Europe,  he 
brought  with  him  from  Geneva  a 
miniature  musical  box,  long  and 
very  narrow,  and  altogether  of  hard¬ 
ly  greater  dimensions,  say,  than  a 
large  pocket-knife.  The  instrument 
played  four  cheerful  little  tunes  for 
the  benefit  of  the  Chubb  family,  and 
they  enjoyed  it.  Young  Henry 
Chubb  enjoyed  it  to  such  an  ex¬ 
tent  that,  one  day,  just  after  the 
machine  had  been  wound  up  ready 

for  action,  he  got  to  sucking  the  end 
16 


192 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


of  it,  and  in  a  moment  of  inadvertence  it  slipped,  and  he 
swallowed  it.  The  only  immediate  consequence  of  the  ac¬ 
cident  was  that  a  harmonic  stomach-ache  was  organized 
upon  the  interior  of  Henry  Chubb,  and  he  experienced  a 
restlessness  which  he  well  knew  would  defy  peppermint  and 
paregoric. 

Henry  Chubb  kept  his  secret  in  his  own  soul,  and  in  his 
stomach  also,  determined  to  hide  his  misery  from  his  father, 
and  to  spare  the  rod  to  the  spoiled  child — spoiled,  at  any 
rate,  as  far  as  his  digestive  apparatus  was  concerned. 

But  that  evening,  at  the  supper-table,  Henry  had  eaten 
but  one  mouthful  of  bread  when  strains  of  wild,  mysterious 


music  were  suddenly  wafted  from  under  the  table.  The 
family  immediately  made  an  effort  to  discover  whence  the 
sounds  came,  although  Henry  Chubb  sat  there  filled  with 
agony  and  remorse  and  bread  and  tunes,  and  desperately 
asserted  his  belief  that  the  music  came  from  the  cellar,  where 


INTERNAL  HARMONY. 


193 


the  servant-girl  was  concealed  with  a  harp.  He  well  knew 
that  Mary  Ann  was  unfamiliar  with  the  harp.  But  he  was 
frantic  with  anxiety  to  hide  his  guilt.  Thus  it  is  that  one 
crime  leads  to  another. 

But  he  could  not  disguise  the  truth  for  ever,  and  that  very 
night,  while  the  family  was  at  prayers,  Henry  all  at  once 

began  to  hiccough,  and  the 
music  box  started  off  with¬ 
out  warning  with  “Way 
down  upon  the  Suwanee 
River,”  with  variations. 
Whereupon  the  paternal 
Chubb  arose  from  his  knees 
and  grasped  Henry  kindly 
but  firmly  by  his  hair  and 
shook  him  up  and  inquired 
what  he  meant  by  such  con¬ 
duct.  And  Henry  asserted 
that  he  was  practicing  some- 


f.  //,? 


thing  for  a  Sunday-school  celebration,  which  old  Chubb  in¬ 
timated  was  a  singularly  thin  ex¬ 
planation.  Then  they  tried  to  get  up 
that  music  box,  and  every  time  they 
would  seize  Henry  by  the  legs  and 
shake  him  over  the  sofa  cushion,  or 
would  pour  some  fresh  variety  of 
emetic  down  his  throat,  the  instru¬ 
ment  within  would  give  a  fresh  spurt, 
and  joyously  grind  out  “  Listen  to  the 
Mocking  Bird  ”  or  “  Thou’lt  Never 
Cease  to  Love.” 

At  last  they  were  compelled  to  per¬ 
mit  that  musical  box  to  remain  within 
the  sepulchral  recesses  of  young  Chubb.  To  say  that  the 


194 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


unfortunate  victim  of  the  disaster  was  made  miserable  by  his 
condition  would  be  to  express  in  the  feeblest  manner  the  state 
of  his  mind.  The  more  music  there  was  in  his  stomach,  the 
wilder  and  more  completely  chaotic  became  the  discord  in 
his  soul.  As  likely  as  not  it  would  occur  that  while  he  lay 
asleep  in  the  middle  of  the  night  the  works  would  begin  to 
revolve,  and  would  play  “  Home,  Sweet  Home  ”  for  two  or 
three  hours,  unless  the  peg  happened  to  slip,  when  the  cylinder 
would  switch  back  again  to  “Way  down  upon  the  Suwanee 
River,”  and  would  rattle  out  that  tune  with  variations  and 
fragments  of  the  scales  until  Henry’s  brother  would  kick 

him  out  of  bed  in  wild  despair, 
and  sit  on  him  in  a  vain  effort  to 
subdue  the  serenade,  which,  how¬ 
ever,  invariably  proceeded  with 
fresh  vigor  when  subjected  to  un¬ 
usual  pressure. 

And  when  Henry  Chubb  went 
to  church,  it  frequently  occurred 
that,  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
most  solemn  portion  of  the  sermon,  he  would  feel  a  gentle 
disturbance  under  the  lower  button  of  his  jacket ;  and  pres¬ 
ently,  when  everything  was  hushed,  the  undigested  engine 
would  give  a  pre¬ 
liminary  buzz  and 
then  reel  off  “  Lis¬ 
ten  to  the  Mocking 
Bird”  and  “Thou’lt 
Never  Cease  to 
Love,”  and  scales 
and  exercises,  until 
the  clergyman 
would  stop  and 
glare  at  Henry  over  his  spectacles  and  whisper  to  one  of  the 


CHUBB’S  FATE. 


195 


deacons.  Then  the  sexton  would  suddenly  tack  up  the  aisle 
and  clutch  the  unhappy  Mr.  Chubb  by  the  collar  and  scud 
down  the  aisle  again  to  the  accompaniment  of  “  Home,  Sweet 
Home,”  and  then  incarcerate  Henry  in  the  upper  portion  of 
the  steeple  until  after  church. 

But  the  end  came  at  last,  and  the  miserable  boy  found 
peace.  One  day  while  he  was  sitting  in  school  endeavor¬ 
ing  to  learn  his  multiplication  table  to  the  tune  of  “  Thou’lt 
Never  Cease  to  Love,”  his  gastric  juice  triumphed.  Some¬ 
thing  or  other  in  the  music  box  gave  way  all  at  once,  the 
springs  were  unrolled  with  alarming  force,  and  Henry  Chubb, 
as  he  felt  the  fragments  of  the  instrument  hurled  right  and 
left  among  his  vitals,  tumbled  over  on  the  floor  and  expired. 

At  the  post  mortem  examination  they  found  several  pieces 
of  “  Home,  Sweet  Home”  in  his  liver,  while  one  of  his  lungs 
was  severely  torn  by  a  fragment  of  “Way  down  upon  the 
Suwanee  B-iver.”  Small  particles  of  “  Listen  to  the  Mock¬ 
ing  Bird”  were  removed  from  his  heart  and  breast-bone, 
and  three  brass  pegs  of  “Thou’lt  Never  Cease  to  Love” 
were  found  firmly  driven  into  his  fifth  rib. 

They  had  no  music  at  the  funeral.  They 
sifted  the  machinery  out  of  him  and  buried 
him  quietly  in  the  cemetery.  Whenever  the 
Chubbs  buy  musical  boxes  now,  they  get  them 
as  large  as  a  piano  and  chain  them  to  the  wall. 

While  Bob  was  engaged  in  reading  the  account  of  the 
melodious  misery  of  the  unhappy  Chubb,  Lieutenant  Smiley 
came  in,  and  the  result  was  that  both  became  uneasy.  Bob 
disliked  to  subject  himself  to  the  criticism  of  a  man  whom 
he  regarded  as  an  enemy,  and  the  lieutenant  was  so  jealous 
of  Bob’s  success  that  he  began  instantly  to  try  to  think  of 
something  that  would  enable  him  at  least  to  maintain  bis 

reputation  as  a  teller  of  stories. 

16* 


196 


OUT  OF  THE  HURL Y-B URL  1*: 


“  That  is  very  good  indeed,  Bob,’’  I  said.  “  Bangs  will 
be  only  too  glad  to  publish  it.  It  is  very  creditable.  Put 
your  name  to  it,  however,  if  it  goes  into  the  Argus ,  or  the 
colonel  will  persuade  the  community  that  he  is  the  author 
of  it.” 

“  He  will  have  to  get  a  new  brain-pan  set  in  before  he  can 
write  anything  as  good,”  said  Bob. 

“  It  is  a  very  amusing  story,”  remarked  Mrs.  Adeler.  “  I 
had  no  idea  that  you  ever  attempted  such  things.  It  is  quite 
good,  is  it  not,  lieutenant  ?” 

“  Oh,  very  good  indeed,”  said  Smiley.  “  V-e-r-y  good. 
Quite  an  achievement,  in  fact.  Ha !  ha !  do  you  know  that 
name  ‘  Chubb’  reminds  me  of  a  very  comical  incident.” 

“  Indeed?” 

“Ha!  yes!  Old  General  Chubb  was  the  actor  in  it. 
Perhaps  you  knew  him,  Parker  ?” 

“No,  I  didn’t,”  growled  Bob. 

“Well,  he  was  a  very  eccentric  old  man.  Deuced  queer, 

you  know,  and  the  most  absent-minded 
person  that  ever  lived.  He  had  a 
wooden  leg  late  in  his  life,  and  I’ve 
often  known  him  to  put  that  leg  oil 
backward  with  the  toes  pointing  be¬ 
hind  him,  and  then  he  would  come 
jolting  down  the  street  in  the  most 
extraordinary  manner,  with  his  good 
knee  bending  north  and  his  timber 
knee  doubling  up  southwardly;  and 
^  when  I  would  meet  him,  he  would 
stop  and  growl  because  the  authorities 
~~  kept  the  pavements  in  such  bad  repair 
that  a  man  could  hardly  walk.” 

“  I  don’t  see  anything  very  funny  about  that,”  said  Bob, 
impolitely  and  savagely. 


GENERAL  CHUBB  IS  ABSORBED. 


197 


"  Well,  one  day  a  few  months  ago,”  continued  Smiley, 
without  noticing  Mr.  Par¬ 
ker’s  ill-nature,  “  he  saunter¬ 
ed  into  the  studio  of  the 
celebrated  marine  painter 
Hamilton,  in  Philadelphia. 

The  artist  was  out  at  the 
moment,  but  standing  upon 
the  floor  was  a  large  and 
very  superb  picture  of  the 
sea-beach,  with  the  surf  roll¬ 
ing  in  upon  it.  The  general 
stood  looking  at  it  for 
a  while,  until  his  mind  jvan- 
dered  off  from  the  present, 
and  under  the  influence  of 
the  picture  he  was  gradually 
impressed  with  a  vague  notion  that  he  was  at  the  seashore. 


So,  still  gazing  at  the  painting,  he  slowly  removed  his  clothes, 


198 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


and  finally  stood  in  a  revery  without  a  stitch  upon  him. 
Then  he  clasped  his  nose  with  his  fingers,  bent  his  neck  for¬ 
ward  and  plunged  head  foremost  into  the  surf.  The  people 
on  the  floor  below  thought  there  was  an  earthquake.  The 
artist  came  rushing  in,  and  found  General  Chubb  with  his 
head  against  the  washboard,  one  leg  hanging  from  the  rag¬ 
ged  surf  and  the  toes  of  his  left  foot  struggling  among  the 
ruins  of  the  lighthouse.  Hamilton  has  that  torn  picture  yet. 
He  says  that  Chubb’s  dive  is  the  highest  tribute  ever  paid  to 
his  genius.” 

As  the  lieutenant  finished  the  narrative,  Bob  rose  and  left 
the  room  with  the  suggestion,  muttered  as  he  passed  me,  that 
the  story  was  tough. 

“  Mr.  Parker  don’t  seem  well,”  remarked  the  lieutenant 
when  Bob  had  gone. 

“  Oh  yes,  he  is  perfectly  well.  I  imagine  that  he  does  not 
regard  you  with  precisely  the  same  amount  of  enthusiastic 
admiration  that  he  might  perhaps  feel  if  you  were  not  tread¬ 
ing  on  his  toes  a  little.” 

“  Oh,”  laughed  the  lieutenant,  “  you  refer,  of  course,  to 
our  relations  with  the  Magruders  ?  I  don’t  like  to  talk  much 
about  that  matter,  of  course ;  it  is  delicate,  and  you  may 
think  I  am  meddling  with  a  business  in  which  I  have  no 
concern.  But  perhaps  I  may  as  well  tell  you  frankly  that 
Parker  has  no  earthly  chance  there — not  the  least  in  the 
world.  The  young  lady  won’t  smile  on  him.  I  am  as  cer- 
tan  of  that  as  I  am  of  death.” 

“You  are  positive  of  that,  are  you?” 

“Yes,  sir,  you  can  rely  upon  my  word.  Parker  might  as 
well  give  it  up.  By  the  way,  I  wonder  if  he  has  gone  down 
there  now  ?” 

“Very  likely.” 

“Well,  I  must  say  good-night,  then;  I  promised  to  call 
there  at  half-past  eight,  and  it  is  time  to  be  off.” 


A  MATTER  OF  FAITH. 


199 


So  Lieutenant  Smiley  bade  us  adieu.  Mrs.  Adeler  imme¬ 
diately  asked : 

“  Do  you  believe  what  that  man  says  ?” 

“Certainly  not,  my  dear.  I  have  as  much  faith  as  a 
dozen  ordinary  men,  but  it  would  require  a  grand  army  to 
believe  him.  He  is  foolish  enough  to  hope  to  frighten  Bob 
away.  But  Bob  shall  settle  the  matter  to-morrow.  If  he 
doesn’t,  we  will  disown  him.  The  end  of  the  campaign  has 
come.  Now  for  victory  or  defeat!” 


4 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

An  Evil  Day — Flogging-Time  in  New  Castle — How  the 
Punishment  is  Inflicted — A  Few  Remarks  upon  the 
General  Merits  of  the  System — A  Singular  Judge — 
How  George  Washington  Busby  was  Sentenced — Emo¬ 
tions  of  the  Prisoner — A  cruel  Infliction,  and  a  Code 
that  ought  to  be  Reformed. 

is  St.  Pillory’s  Day.  '  It  is 
the  day  upon  which  humane 
and  liberal  Delawarians  liana* 

o 

their  heads  for  shame  at  the 
insult  offered  to  civilization 
the  law  of  their  State.  That 
law  this  morning  placed  half  a 
dozen  miserable  creatures  in 
the  stocks,  and  then  flogged 
them  upon  their  naked  flesh 
with  a  cat -o’ -nine -tails.  It 
was  no  slight  thing  to  stand 
there  wearing  that  wooden  col¬ 
lar  in  this  bitter  November 
weather,  with  the  north-east  wind  blowing  in  fierce  gusts  from 
the  broad  expanse  of  the  river ;  and  one  poor  wretch  who 
endured  that  suffering  was  so  benumbed  with  cold  that  he 
could  hardly  climb  down  the  ladder  to  the  ground.  And 
when  he  had  descended,  they  lashed  his  back  until  it  was 
covered  with  purple  stripes.  He  had  stolen  some  provisions, 
and  he  looked  as  if  he  needed  them,  for  he  seemed  hungry 
and  forlorn  and  utterly  desperate  with  misery.  It  would 
200 


THE  WHIPPING  POST. 


201 


<vTi>$c 


have  been  a  kindlier  act  of  Christian  charity  if  society,  in¬ 
stead  of  mutilating  his  body,  had  fed  it  and  clothed  it  pro¬ 
perly,  and  placed  him  in  some  reformatory  institution  where 
his  soul  could  have  been  taken  care  of.  But  that  is  not  the 

method  that  prevails  here. 

The  gates  of  the  prison  yard 
were  wide  open  when  the  punish¬ 
ment  was  inflicted  upon  these  of¬ 
fenders,  and  among  the  spectators 
were  at  least  two  or  three  score 
children  gathered  to  look  upon  the 
barbarous  spectacle.  Nothing 
could  induce  me  to  permit  mine 
to  witness  it.  The  influence  of 
such  a  scene  is  wholly  brutalizing. 
The  child  that  has  seen  that  sacri¬ 
fice  has  lost  some  of  the  sweetness  and  tenderness  of  its 
better  nature. 

The  whipping-post  and 
pillory  is  a  sturdy  bit  of 
timber  a  foot  square.  Eight 
or  nine  feet  from  the  ground 
it  pierces  a  small  platform, 
and  five  feet  above  this  there 
is  a  cross-piece  which  con¬ 
tains  in  each  of  its  two  arms 
a  hole  for  the  neck  and  two 
holes  for  the  Avrists  of  the 
man  who  is  to  be  pilloried. 

The  upper  half  of  the  arm 
lifts  to  admit  the  victim,  and 
then  closes  upon  him,  some¬ 
times  very  tightly.  It  is  fastened  down  Avith  a  wedge-shaped 
key,  shot  into  the  centre-post.  Beueath  the  platform  hangs 


202 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


a  pair  of  handcuffs  in  which  the  wrists  of  those  who  are  to 
be  flogged  are  placed.  The  whole  machine  looks  like  a 
gigantic  cross.  It  is  black  with  age,  covered  with  patches 
of  green  mold  and  moss,  and  shrunken  and  split  until  the 
grain  of  the  wood  protrudes  in  ridges. 

There  was  a  time  in  the  past  when  it  stood,  an  instrument 
of  cruel  torture,  upon  the  public  street.  It  was  planted  in 
the  green  just  at  the  end  of  the  old  market  house,  and  there 
the  criminals  were  lashed  by  the  sheriff.  Any  of  the  old 

,  .  „  Z' V-  m e n  who  have 

I  (  QlO^n 

nr..  /  spent  their  lives  m 

this  place  can  tell 
how,  when  they 
were  boys,  it  was 
the  custom  for  the 
urchins  and  the 
loafers  of  the  town 
to  pelt  any  poor 


j. 


rogue  who  was  pilloried  with  whatever  missiles  happened  to 
be  at  hand ;  and  often  the  creatures  thus  abused  were  taken 
down  from  the  stocks  and  tied  up  to  the  post,  there  to  have 
their  flesh  lacerated  with  the  leather  thongs.  They  used  to 
flog  women,  too.  They  flogged  women  in  the  open  street, 
with  their  garments  torn  away  from  their  bodies  above  the 
waist,  and  the  gaping  crowd  gathered  about  and  witnessed 
without  shame  that  dreadful  spectacle. 

But  that  was  more  than  half  a  century  ago.  Who  shall 
say  that  we  do  not  advance  in  civilization  ?  Who  can  assert 
that  these  people  have  not  acquired  a  higher  sense  of  decency, 
when  public  opinion  has  compelled  the  removal  of  this  abom¬ 
inable  relic  of  barbarism  to  the  jail-yard,  and  the  perform¬ 
ance  of  the  penalty  in  another  place  than  before  the  doors 
of  the  temple  where  a  God  of  mercy  is  worshiped  ?  I  hope 
that  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  the  whipping-post  and 


A  BAD  SYSTEM. 


203 


the  infernal  system  that  sustains  it  will  go  down  together, 
and  wThen  the  people  of  this  State  will  learn  that  their  first 
duty  to  a  criminal  is  to  strive  to  make  him  a  better  man. 

_  v 

They  say  here,  in  apologizing  for  the  institution,  that  the 
punishment  is  not  severe,  because  the  sheriff  never  makes 
savage  use  of  the  lash.  But  it  is  a  terrible  infliction,  no 
matter  how  lightly  the  blows  are  struck,  for  it  is  imposed  in 
the  presence  of  a  multitude,  and  the  sufferer  feels  that  he  is 
for  ever  to  be  known  among  men  as  a  thief.  The  thongs  do 
not  always  fall  gently ;  the  force  of  the  lash  depends  upon 
the  will  of  the  sheriff,  who  may  kill  a  man  with  the  number 
of  blows  which  in  another  case  give  no  pain.  I  say  that 
any  law  which  places  such  discretionary  power  in  the  hands 
of  an  executive  officer  who  may  be  bribed  or  frightened,  or 
who  may  have  some  personal  injury  to  avenge,  defeats  the 
true  end  of  justice.  The  court  should  fix  the  penalty  abso¬ 
lutely.  They  say  here,  also,  that  no  man  is  ever  flogged  a 
second  time.  That'  is  untrue.  The  same  men  do  return 
again  and  again.  Some  do  not;  but  where  do  they  go? 
Why,  to  other  communities,  where  they  perpetrate  other 
crimes  and  become  a  burden  upon  other  people.  We  have 
no  right  to  breed  criminals  and  then  to  drive  them  into  cities 
and  towns  that  have  already  enough  of  their  own.  We  are 
under  a  sacred  obligation  to  place  them  in  prisons  supported 
by  the  money  of  the  State,  and  there  to  attempt  to  teach 
them  arts  by  which  they  may  earn  their  bread  if  they  will. 
In  such  a  place  a  convict  can  be  reached  by  those  philan¬ 
thropists  who  realize  what  society  owes  to  its  criminal  classes. 
But  as  he  is  treated  now,  it  is  impossible  that  he  should  ever 
lift  himself  or  be  lifted  to  a  purer  and  better  life. 

Fallen  angels  in  Delaware  never  rise  again.  Law  clips 
their  wings  and  stamps  upon  them  with  its  heel,  and  society 
shakes  off  the  dust  of  its  feet  upon  them  and  curses  them  in 
their  degradation.  The  gates  of  mercy  are  shut  upon  them 


204 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


hopelessly  and  for  ever,  and  they  walk  abroad  with  the  story 
of  their  shame  blazoned  upon  them,  as  the  women  who  wore 
the  Scarlet  Letter  in  the  old  Puritan  times  in  New  England, 
that  all  the  world  may  read  it.  They  know  that  their  pun¬ 
ishment  has  been  fierce  and  terrible  and  out  of  all  propor¬ 
tion  to  their  offence,  and  they  curse  their  oppressors  and 
hate  them  with  a  bitter,  unrelenting  hatred.  They  know 
they  will  not  be  allowed  to  reform,  and  that  the  law  which 
should  have  led  them  to  a  better  future  has  cut  them  off 
from  fellowship  with  their  race,  robbed  them  of  their  human¬ 
ity  and  made  pariahs  and  outcasts  of  them.  They  are  turned 
to  stone,  and  they  come  out  of  their  prisons  confirmed,  hope¬ 
less  criminals. 

A  certain  judge  who  administered  Delaware  justice  here 
once  upon  a  time  (we  will  say  it  was  a  thousand  years  ago) 
was  a  very  peculiar  man  in  certain  of  his  methods.  I  do  not 
know  whether  he  was  merely  fond  of  listening  to  the  music 
of  his  own  voice,  as  too  many  less  reverend  and  awful  men 

are,  or  whether  he  really 
loved  to  torture  the  prison¬ 
ers  in  the  dock,  when  he 
sentenced  them,  by  keeping 
them  in  suspense  respecting 
his  intentions,  and  by  excit¬ 
ing  hopes  which  he  finally 
crushed.  But  he  had  a  way 
of  assuming  a  mild  and  be¬ 
nevolent  aspect  as  he  ad¬ 
dressed  a  convicted  man 
which  was  very  reassuring 
to  the  unhappy  wight,  and 
then  he  usually  proceeded 
to  deliver  a  few  remarks 
which  were  so  ingeniously  arranged,  which  expressed  such 


THE  CASE  OF  BUSBY. 


205 


tender  and  affectionate  sympathy,  which  were  so  highly 
charged  with  benevolence,  so  expressive,  as  it  wTere,  of  a 
passionate  yearning  for  the  welfare  of  the  victim,  that  the 
latter  at  last  would  be  convinced  that  the  judge  was  about 
to  give  him  an  exceedingly  light  sentence.  Just  as  he  had 
gotten  himself  into  a  frame  of  mind  suitable  to  the  unex¬ 
pected  brightness  of  his  prospects,  the  judge’s  custom  was  to 
bring  his  observations  suddenly  to  an  end,  and  to  hurl  at 
the  head  of  the  convict,  still  with  that  philanthropic  expres¬ 
sion  upon  his  countenance,  the  most  frightful  penalty  per¬ 
mitted  by  the  law. 

On  a  certain  day,  while  a  certain  historian  was  in  court, 
he  was  engaged  in  exercising  a  youth  named  Busby  in  this 
fashion.  Busby,  it  appears,  was 
accused  of  stealing  seventy-five 
cents’  worth  of  old  iron  from 
somebody,  and  the  jury  had 
found  him  guilty. 

Busby  was  ordered  to  stand 
up,  and  the  judge,  permitting  a 
peculiarly  bland  smile  to  play 
upon  his  features,  gazed  tenderly 
at  the  prisoner,  while  he  placed 
a  small  pinch  of  tobacco  in  his 
mouth ;  and  then,  drawing  a  long 
breath,  he  began : 

“George  Washington  Busby,  you  have  been  found  guilty 
by  a  jury  of  your  fellow-countrymen  of  an  offence  against 


w 


society  and  against  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  common- 


206 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


wealth  of  Delaware,  and  I  have  now  to  impose  upon  you  the  ' 
penalties  provided  by  the  law.  I  am  very,  very  sorry  to  see 
you  here,  George,  and  it  grieves  my  heart  to  be  compelled 
to  fulfill  the  obligation  devolving  upon  me  as  a  judicial  officer. 
Pause,  I  entreat  you,  at  this  the  very  outset  of  your  career, 
and  reflect  upon  what  you  are  casting  from  you.  You  are 
a  young  man ;  you  are,  as  it  were,  in  the  very  morning  of 
your  life ;  a  bright  and  happy  home  is  yours,  and  around 
you  are  the  kind  parents  and  friends  who  have  made  you 
the  child  of  their  prayers,  who  have  guided  your  footsteps 
from  infancy,  who  have  loved  and  cherished  you  and  made 
for  you  mighty  sacrifices. 

“You  have  a  mother” — and  here  the  judge’s  voice  fal¬ 
tered  and  he  wiped  away  a  tear — “  a  mother  at  whose  knee 

you  were  taught  to  lisp  your  earliest 
devotions,  and  who  has  watched  over 
you  and  ministered  to  you  with  that 
tender  and  fervent  love  that  only  a 
mother  can  feel.  You  have  a  father 
who  looked  upon  you  with  a  heart 
swelling  with  pride,  and  who  gave 
to  you  the  heritage  of  his  honest 
name.  Up  to  the  time  when,  yield¬ 
ing  to  the  insidious  wiles  of  the  tempter,  you  committed  this 
crime,  your  character  had  been  irreproachable,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  the  brightest  promises  of  your  childhood  were  to  have 
rich  and  beneficent  fulfillment.  For  you  the  vista  of  the 
future  appeared  serene  and  beautiful ;  a  pure 
and  noble  manhood  seemed  to  await  you,  and 
all  the  blessings  which  may  be  gained  by 
an  unspotted  reputation,  by  persistent  energy 
and  by  earnest  devotion  to  the  right  were  to 
be  yours.” 

Here  Busby  began  to  feel  considerably  better.  He  was 


THE  HOPEFULNESS  OF  BUSBY. 


207 


assured  that  such  a  kind  old  man  as  that  could  not  treat 
him  with  severity,  and  he  informed  the  tipstaff  in  a  whis¬ 
per  that  he  calculated  now  on 
about  sixty  days’  imprisonment 
at  the  furthest. 

The  judge  shifted  the  quid  in 
his  cheek,  blew  his  nose,  and 
resumed :  ♦ 

“  How  difficult  it  is,  then,  for 
me  to  determine  the  precise 
measure  of  your  punishment! 

Knowing  that  the  quality  of 
mercy  is  not  strained,  and  that 
as  we  forgive  so  shall  we  be 
forgiven,  how  painful  it  is  for 
me  to  draw  the  line  between 
undue  leniency  and  the  demands 

of  outraged  law !  Considering,  I  say,  all  these  things,  that 
are  so  much  in  your  favor — your  youth,  your  happy  home, 
where  the  holiest  influences  are  shed  upon  your  path,  where 
parental  love  covers  you  with  its  most  gracious  benediction, 
where  your  devoted  mother  lies  stricken  with  anguish  at  the 
sin  of  her  idolized  son,  where  your  aged  father  has  his  gray 
hairs  brought  down  in  sorrow  to  the  grave,  where  you  have 
been  nurtured  and  admonished  and  taught  to  do  right — ” 

“  Certainly  he  can’t  intend  to  give 
me  more  than  one  month,”  said  Busby 
to  the  tipstaff. 

“  Considering  that  this  is  your  first 
offence;  that  your  conduct  hitherto 
has  been  that  of  an  honest  young 
man,  and  that  the  lesson  you  have 
learned  from  this  bitter  and  terrible 
experience  will  sink  deeply  into  your 


208 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


heart;  that  you  have  opening  out  to  you  in  the  possible 
future  a  life  of  usefulness  and  honor,  with  a  prospect  of  re¬ 
deeming  this  single  error  and  winning  for  yourself  a  re¬ 
spected  name — ” 

“  He  can’t  decently  give  me  more  than  twenty  days  after 
that,”  suggested  Busby. 

The  judge,  after  wiping  the  moisture  from  his  eyes  and 
borrowing  a  morsel  of  tobacco  from  the  prosecuting  attorney, 
continued : 

“  In  view  of  all  these  extenuating  circumstances,  in  view 
of  the  fact,  fully  recognized  by  this  court,  that  justice  is  not 
revengeful,  but  exercises  its  highest  prerogative  in  leading 
the  fallen  to  reformation  and  moral  improvement — in  view, 
I  say,  of  the  fact  that  you  are  in  the  very  spring-time  of 
your  existence,  with  the  vista  of  the  future  opening  out  with 
alluring  brightness  before  you  and  giving  promise  of  higher 
and  better  things — in  view  of  those  sorrowing  parents  the 
child  of  whose  prayers  you  are ;  of  that  mother  who  guided 

your  infant  steps  and  cared  for  you 
with  the  yearning  tenderness  of  ma¬ 
ternal  love,  of  that  venerable  father 
who  looks  upon  you  as  the  staff  of  his 
old  age ;  considering,  too,  that  this  is 
your  first  misstep  from  the  path  of 
duty—” 

“  Two  weeks  as  sure  as  death !”  ex¬ 
claimed  Mr.  Busby,  joyfully,  to  the 
officer  beside  him. 

“  The  path  of  duty,”  continued  the 
judge,  “  and  that  up  to  the  moment 
of  the  commission  of  the  deed  you  had 
been  above  suspicion  and  above  reproach, — in  view  of  all 
this,”  remarked  the  judge,  “  I  have  thought  it  my  duty, 
minister  of  the  law  though  I  am,  and  bound  though  I 


CflRlfi 


BUSBY  MORE  HOPEFUL. 


209 


am  by  my  oath  to  vindicate  the  insulted  majesty  of  that 
law — ” 

“  If  he  gives  me  more  than  one  week,  I  will  never  trust 
signs  again,”  murmured  Busby. 

“  I  say  that  although  I  am  bound 
to  administer  justice  with  an  im¬ 
partial  hand,  I  feel  it  to  be  incum¬ 
bent  upon  me  in  this  particular 
instance,  in  consequence  of  these 
extenuating  circumstances,  to 
mete  it  out  so  that,  while  the  law 
will  be  vindicated,  you  may  be 
taught  that  it  is  not  cruel  or  un-  > 
kind,  but  rather  is  capable  of  giv¬ 
ing  the  first  generous  impulse  to 
reformation.” 

“  He  certainly  means  to  let  me  off  altogether,”  exclaimed 
Busby. 


prisoned  for  six  months  in 


“  In  view,  then,  of  these  mit¬ 
igating  circumstances  of  your 
youth,  your  previous  good  cha¬ 
racter,  your  happy  prospects, 
your  afflicted  parents  and  your 
own  sincere  repentance,  the 
sentence  of  the  courtis:  That 
you,  George  Washington  Bus¬ 
by,  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  do 
pay  seventy-five  cents  restitu¬ 
tion  money  and  the  costs  of 
this  trial,  and  that  on  Saturday 
next  you  be  whipped  with 
twenty  lashes  on  the  bare  back, 
well  laid  on ;  that  you  be  im- 
the  county  jail,  and  that  you 


210 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BUBLY. 


wear  a  convict’s  jacket  in  public  for  one  year  after  your 
release.  Sheriff,  remove  the  prisoner  from  the  court.” 

Then  the  judge  beamed  a  mournful  but  sympathetic  smile 
upon  Busby,  secured  the  loan  of  another  atom  of  tobacco, 
spat  on  the  floor  and  called  up  the  next  case. 

Mrs.  Adeler,  you  laugh  and  say  that  I  have  indulged  in 
gross  exaggeration  in  reproducing  the  sentence.  Not  so. 
I  tell  you  that  I  have  known  a  boy  of  thirteen  to  have  that 
condemnation,  couched  in  almost  precisely  those  words,  hurled 
at  him  from  the  bench  of  the  New  Castle  court-house  because 
he  stole  a  bit  of  iron  said  to  be  worth  seventy-five  cents. 
And  I  was  present  among  the  spectators  in  the  jail  yard 
when  the  sheriff  lashed  the  lad  until  he  writhed  with  pain. 
It  was  infamous — utterly  infamous.  I  cannot,  perhaps, 
justly  accuse  the  judge  who  imposed  the  sentence  upon  the 
boy  of  indulging  in  the  lecture  which  has  just  been  quoted. 
That,  as  I  have  said,  may  be  attributed  to  a  magistrate  who 
lived  ten  »centuries  ago.  But  the  sentence  is  genuine,  and 
it  was  given  recently.  I  do  not  blame  the  judge.  He  acted 
under  the  authority  of  statutes  which  were  created  by  other 
hands.  But  the  law  is  savagery  itself,  and  the  humane  men 
of  this  State  should  sweep  it  from  existence. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A  Delaware  Legend — A  Story  of  the  Old  Time — The 
Christmas  Play — A  Cruel  Accusation — The  Flight  in 
the  Darkness  along  the  River  Shore — The  Trial  and 
the  Condemnation — St.  Pillory’s  Day  seventy  Years 
ago — Flogging  a  Woman — The  Deliverance. 


HILE  the  scenes  at  the 
whipping-post  on  flogging- 
day  are  fresh  in  my  mind, 
I  have  written  down  the 
story  of  Mary  Engle.  It 
is  a  Delaware  legend,  and 
the  events  of  which  it  speaks 
occurred,  I  will  say,  seventy- 
odd  years  ago,  when  they 
were  in  the  habit  of  lashing 
women  in  this  very  town  of  . 
New  Castle. 

It  was  on  Christmas  day 
that  a  little  party  had  as¬ 
sembled  in  the  old  Newton  mansion  to  participate  in  the 
festivities  for  which,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  it  was  famous 
all  the  country  over.  The  house  stood  upon  the  river  bank, 
three  miles  and  more  from  New  Castle,  and  in  that  day 
it  was  considered  the  greatest  and  handsomest  building  in 
the  whole  neighborhood.  A  broad  lawn  swept  away  from 
it  down  to  the  water’s  edge,  and  in  summer-time  this  was 
covered  with  bright-colored  flowers  and  bounded  by  green 
hedges.  Now  the  grass  was  bleached  with  the  cold;  the 

211 


/ 


i 


* 


212 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


hedges  were  brown  and  sere,  and  the  huge  old  trees,  stripped 
of  their  foliage,  moaned  and  creaked  and  shivered  in  the 
wind,  rattling  their  branches  together  as  if  seeking  sympathy 
with  each  other  in  their  desolation. 

Inside  the  mansion  the  scene  was  as  cheerful  as  life  and 
fun  and  high  spirits  could  make  it. 

Old  Major  Newton,  the  lord  and  master  of  all  the  wide 
estates,  was  one  of  the  race  of  country  gentlemen  who  intro¬ 
duced  to  this  continent  the  manners,  habits  and  large  hospi¬ 
tality  of  the  better  class  of  English  squires  of  his  day.  He 
was  a  mighty  fox-hunter,  as  many  a  brush  hung  in  his  dining- 
hall  could  attest.  A  believer  in  the  free  use  of  the  good 
things  of  life,  his  sideboard  always  contained  a  dozen  de¬ 
canters,  from  which  the  coming,  the  remain¬ 
ing  and  the  parting  guests  were  expected  to 
follow  the  major’s  example  in  drinking 
deeply.  His  table  was  always  profusely 
b  supplied  with  good  fare,  and  dining  with 
him  was  the  great  duty  and  pleasure  of  the  day.  He  was  a 
gentleman  in  education,  and  to  some  extent  in  his  tastes ;  but 
his  manners  partook  of  the  coarseness  of  his  time,  for  he 
swore  fierce  oaths,  and  his  temper  was  quick,  terrible  and 
violent.  His  forty  negro  slaves  were  treated  with  indulgent 
kindness  while  they  obeyed  him  implicitly,  but  any  attempt 
at  insubordination  upon  their  part  called  down  upon  their 
heads  a  volley  of  oaths  and  that  savage  punishment  which 
the  major  considered  necessary  to  discipline. 

To-day  the  major  had  been  out  of  spirits,  and  had  not 
joined  heartily  in  the  hilarity  of  the  company,  which,  despite 
the  gloom  of  the  master,  made  the  old  house  ring  with  the 
merriment  and  laughter  due  to  the  happiness  of  Christmas 
time. 

At  five  o’clock  dinner  was  done ;  and  the  ladies  having 
withdrawn,  the  cloth  was  removed,  the  wine  and  whisky  and 


AT  THE  TABLE . 


213 


apple-toddy,  and  a  half  dozen  other  beverages,  were  brought 
out,  and  the  major,  with  his  male  guests,  began  the  serious 
work  of  the  repast.  The  major  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table; 
Dr.  Ricketts,  a  jolly  bachelor  of  fifty,  who  neglected  medi¬ 
cine  that  he  might  better  spend  his  fortune  in  a  life  of  ease 
and  pleasure,  presided  at  the  lower  end  of  the  board,  upon 
the  flanks  of  which  sat  a  dozen  gentlemen  from  the  neigh¬ 
boring  estates,  among  them  Tom  Willitts,  from  the  adjoin¬ 
ing  farm,  and  Dick  Newton,  the  major’s  only  son. 

The  conversation  languished  somewhat.  The  major  was 
as  gloomy  as  he  had  been  earlier  in  the  day.  Dick  seemed 
to  sympathize  with  his  father.  Torn  Willitts  was  impatient 


to  have  the  drinking  bout  over,  that  he  might  go  to  the  par¬ 
lor,  where  his  thoughts  already  wandered,  and  where  his 
fiancee ,  Mary  Engle,  the  fair  governess  in  the  major’s 
family,  awaited  him.  The  guests  at  last  began  to  be 
depressed  by  the  want  of  spirits  in  their  host ;  and  if  it  had 
not  been  for  Doctor  Ricketts,  there  would  have  been  a  dull 
time  indeed.  But  the  doctor  was  talkative,  lively  and 
wholly  indifferent  to  the  taciturnity  of  his  companions.  His 
Weakness  was  a  fondness  for  theorizing,  and  he  rattled  on 
from  topic  to  topic,  heedless  of  anything  but  the  portly 


214 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


goblet  which  he  replenished  time  and  again  from  the 
decanter  and  the  punch-bowl. 

At  last  he  exclaimed,  in  the  hope  of  rousing  his  host 
from  his  apparent  despondency,  “And  now  let’s  have  a 
song  from  the  major.  Give  us  the  ‘  Tally  Ho!’  Newton.” 

“I  can’t  sing  it  to-day,  gentlemen,”  said  the  major;  “the 
fact  is  I  am  a  good  deal  out  of  sorts.  I  have  met  with  a 
misfortune,  and  I — ” 

“Why,  what’s  happened?”  exclaimed  the  whole  company. 

“Why,”  said  the  major,  with  an  oath,  “I’ve  lost  my 
famous  old  diamond  brooch — a  jewel,  gentlemen,  given  to 
my  father  by  George  II. — a  jewel  that  I  valued  more  than 
all  the  world  beside.  It  was  the  reward  given  to  my  father 
for  a  brave  and  gallant  deed  at  the  battle  of  Dettingen,  and 
its  rare  intrinsic  value  was  trifling  beside  that  which  it  pos¬ 
sessed  as  the  evidence  of  my  father’s  valor.” 

“  How  did  you  lose  it,  major  ?”  asked  the  doctor. 

“  I  went  to  my  desk  this  morning,  and  found  that  the  lock 
had  been  picked,  the  inside  drawer  broken  open  and  the 
brooch  taken  from  its  box.” 

“  Who  could  have  done  it  ?” 

“  I  can’t  imagine,”  replied  the  major ;  “  I  don’t  think  any 
of  those  niggers  would  have  done  such  a  thing.  I’ve  searched 
them  all,  but  it’s  of  no  use,  sir — no  use ;  it’s  gone.  But  if  I 
ever  lay  hands  on  the  scoundrel,  I’ll  flay  him  alive — I  will, 
indeed,  even  if  it  should  be  Dick  there;”  and  the  old  man 
gulped  down  a  heavy  draught  of  port,  as  if  to  drown  his 
grief. 

“My  theory  about  such  crimes,”  said  the  doctor,  “is 
that  the  persons  committing  them  are  always  more  or  less 
insane.” 

“Insane!”  swore  the  major,  fiercely.  “If  I  catch  the 
man  who  did  this,  I’ll  fit  him  for  a  hospital !” 

“  We  are  all  a  little  daft  at  times — when  we  are  angry,  in 


THE  LOVERS. 


215 


love,  in  extreme  want,  or  excited  by  intense  passion  of  any 
kind,”  said  the  doctor.  “Extreme  ignorance,  being  neglect 
of  one’s  intellectual  faculties,  is  a  kind  of  insanity,  and  so  is 
the  perversion  of  the  moral  perceptions  of  those  who  are 
educated  to  a  life  of  crime  from  their  childhood.  My  theory 
is  that  punishment  should  be  so  inflicted  as  to  restore  reason, 
not  merely  to  wreak  vengeance.” 

“  And  my  theory  is  that  every  vagabond  who  breaks  the 
laws  ought  to  be  flogged  and  imprisoned,  so  that  he  may 
know  that  society  will  not  tolerate  crime.  Hang  your  fine¬ 
spun  theories  about  the  beggars  who  prey  upon  the  commu¬ 
nity  !”  said  the  major,  rising  and  kicking  back  his  chair  ill- 
naturedly. 

The  doctor  had  nothing  more  to  say,  and  the  company 
withdrew  to  the  parlor. 

There,  gathered  around  the  great  fireplace,  sat  Mrs.  New¬ 
ton,  her  daughters — both  children — Mary  Engle,  their  tutor, 
Mrs.  Willitts  and  the  wives  of  the  gentlemen  who  had  come 
from  the  dinner-table. 

They  rose  as  the  men  entered  the  room,  and  greeted  them 
cordially.  Tom  Willitts  went  quickly  to  Mary’s  side,  and 
while  the  others  engaged  in  lively  conversation  he  took  her 
hand  gently  and,  as  was  their  privilege,  they  walked  slowly 
up  the  room  and  sat  by  the  window  alone,  Mary’s  face 
brightening  as  she  thanked  Tom 
heartily  for  the  beautiful  present 
he  had  sent  her  the  day  before. 

“  Why  don’t  you  wear  it  now, 

Mary  ?”  asked  Tom. 

“  Do  you  want  me  to  ?  I  will 
get  it  and  put  it  on,  then,  when  I 
go  to  my  room,”  said  Mary. 

Mary  Engle  was  the  daughter 

of  a  widow  in  humble  circum- 
18 


216 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


stances  who  lived  in  the  village.  Talented  and  well-edu¬ 
cated,  she  had  determined  no  longer  to  be  a  burden  upon 
her  mother,  but  to  support  herself.  She  had  chosen  to  be¬ 
come  a  governess  in  Major  Newton’s  family.  Young,  beau¬ 
tiful  and  of  good  social  position,  she  was  a  valuable  acquisi¬ 
tion  to  that  household,  and  wras  a  universal  favorite,  although 
the  major  could  never  quite  rid  himself  of  the  notion  that, 
as  she  was  a  dependant  and  an  employ^,  he  was  conferring 
a  favor  upon  her  by  permitting  such  intimate  relations  to 
exist  between  her  and  his  family.  But  he  treated  her 
kindly,  as  all  men  must  a  pretty  woman.  She  was  a  girl 
with  whom  any  man  might  have  fallen  in  love  upon  first 
acquaintance.  Dick  Newton  loved  her  passionately  before 
she  had  been  in  his  father’s  house  a  month.  But  she  had 
chosen  rather  to  favor  Tom  Willitts,  a  constant  visitor  at 
the  Newton  mansion,  and  as  fine  a  fellow  as  ever  galloped 
across  the  country  with  the  hounds.  Dick  had  not  had  time 
to  propose  before  the  game  was  up  and  Tom  called  the  prize 
his  own.  But  Dick  nursed  his  passion  and  smothered  his 
disappointment,  while  he  swore  that  he  would  possess  the 
girl  or  involve  her  and  her  lover  in  common  ruin  with  him¬ 
self.  Tom  had  been  engaged  for  three  months  before  this 
Christmas  day.  He  was  to  be  married  in  the  coming 
spring. 

There  was  to  be  a  theatrical  exhibition  in  the  Newton 
mansion  this  Christmas  evening,  in  which  the  young  people 
were  to  participate.  A  temporary  stage  had  been  erected  at 
one  end  of  the  long  room,  and  at  an  early  hour  seats  were 
placed  in  front  of  the  curtain,  and  the  guests  took  their 
places,  conversing  with  much  merriment  and  laughter  until 
the  bell  gave  the  signal  for  the  performance  to  begin. 

It  was  a  little  play — a  brief  comedy  of  only  tolerable  merit, 
and  it  devolved  upon  Mary  Engle  to  enter  first. 

She  tripped  in  smiling,  and  began  the  recitation  with  a 


ACCUSED! 


217 


x 


vivacity  and  spirit  that  promised  well  for  the  excellence  of 
her  performance  throughout.  Upon  her  throat  she  wore  a 
diamond  brooch  which  blazed  and  flashed  in  the  glare  of  the 
foot-lights. 

There  was  an  exclamation  of  surprise  on  the  part  of  the 
gentlemen  present,  and  the  sound  startled  Mary.  She 
paused  and  looked  around  her  inquiringly.  Just  then 
Major  Newton  caught  sight  of  the  brooch.  With  an  ugly 
word  upon  his  lips,  he  sprang  from  his  seat  and  jumped  upon 
the  stage. 

“  Where  did  you  get  that  ?”  he  demanded,  fiercely,  point¬ 
ing  at  the  diamonds,  his  hand  trembling  violently. 

There  was  absolute  silence  in 
the  room  as  Mary,  pale  and 
calm,  replied : 

“  Why  do  you  ask,  sir  ?” 

“  Where  did  you  get  that,  I 
say?  It  was  stolen  from  me. 

You  are  a  thief!” 

In  an  instant  she  tore  it  from 
her  dress  and  flung  it  upon  the 
floor. 

The  major  leaped  toward  it  and  picked  it  up  quickly. 

Mary  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  the  crimson 
of  her  cheeks  shone  through  her  fingers. 

“  Where  did  you  get  it  ?”  again  demanded  the  major. 

“  I  will  not  tell  you,  sir,”  said  she,  dragging  down  her 
hands  with  an  effort  and  clasping  them  in  front  of  her. 

“  Then  leave  this  house  this  instant,  and  leave  it  for  ever !” 
said  the  major,  wild  with  passion. 

Tom  Willitts  entered  just  as  the  last  words  were  uttered. 
Mary  seemed  fainting.  He  flew  to  her  side  as  if  to  defend 
her  against  her  enemy.  He  did  not  know  the  cause  of  her 
trouble,  but  he  glared  at  the  major  as  if  he  could  slay  him. 


218 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


But  as  he  tried  to  place  his  arm  around  Mary,  she  shrank 
away  from  him ;  and  giving  him  one  look  of  scorn  and  con¬ 
tempt  and  hatred,  she  ran  from  the  room. 

From  the  room  to  the  great  door  in  the  hall,  which,  with 
frantic  eagerness,  she  flung  open,  and  then,  without  any 
covering  upon  her  fair  head,  hot  with  shame  and  disgrace, 
and  maddened  with  insult,  she  fled  out  into  the  cold  and 
dark  and  desolate  winter’s  night. 

Scarcely  heeding  the  direction,  she  reached  the  river’s 
shore ;  and  choosing  the  hard  sand  for  a  pathway,  she  hur¬ 
ried  along  it.  The  tide  swept  up  in  ceaseless  ripples  at  her 
feet,  the  waves  breaking  upon  the  icy  fringe  of  the  shore, 
each  with  a  whisper  that  seemed  to  tell  of  her  dishonor. 
The  wind  rustled  the  sedges  upon  the  banks  and  filled  them 
with  voices  that  mocked  her.  The  stars  that  lighted  her 
upon  her  mad  journey  twinkled  through  the  frosty  air  with 
an  intelligence  they  had  never  before  possessed.  The  lights, 
far  out  upon  the  river  and  in  the  distant  town,  danced  up 
and  down  in  the  darkness  as  if  beckoning  her  to  come  on  to 
them  and  to  destruction. 

Her  brain  was  in  a  whirl.  At  first  she  felt  an  impulse  to 
end  her  misery  in  the  river.  One  plunge,  and  all  this 
anguish  and  pain  would  be  buried  beneath  those  restless 
waters.  Then  the  hope  of  vindication  flashed  upon  her 
mind,  and  the  awful  sin  and  the  cowardice  of  self-destruction 
rose  vividly  before  her.  She  would  seek  her  home  and  the 
mother  from  whom  she  should  never  have  gone  out.  .ihe 
would  give  up  happiness  and  humanity,  and  hide  herself 
from  the  cold,  heartless  world  for  ever.  She  would  have  no 
more  to  do  with  false  friends  and  false  lovers,  but  would  shut 
herself  away  from  all  this  deceit  and  treachery  and  unkind¬ 
ness,  and  nevermore  trust  any  human  being  but  her  own 
dear  mother. 

And  so,  over  the  sandy  beach,  through  mire  and  mud. 


HOME  ONCE  MORE.  219 

through  the  high  grass  and  the  reeds  of  the  water’s  edge, 
tangled  and  dead,  and  full  of  peril  in  the  darkness,  with 


her  hair  disheveled  and  tossed  about  bv  the  riotous  wind, 
but  with  not  a  tear  upon  her  white  face,  she  struggled  on¬ 
ward  through  the  night,  until,  exhausted  with  her  journey, 
her  wild  passion  and  her  misery,  she  reached  her  mother’s 
house,  and  entering,  clasped  her  arms  about  her  mother’s 
neck,  and  with  a  sob  fell  fainting  at  her  feet. 

*  .  *  *  *  * 

There  was  an  end  to  merriment  at  the  Newton  mansion. 
When  Mary  ran  from  the  room,  the  company  stood  for  a 
moment  amazed  and  bewildered,  while  the  major,  raging 
with  passion,  yet  half  ashamed  of  his  furious  conduct,  walked 
rapidly  up  and  down  the  stage,  attempting  to  explain  the 
theft  to  his  guests  and  to  justify  his  conduct.  But  Tom 
Willitts,  shocked  at  the  cruel  treatment  he  had  received 
from  Mary,  yet  filled  with  righteous  indignation  at  the 
major’s  violence,  interrupted  his  first  utterance. 


220 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  You  are  a  coward  and  a  brute,  sir ;  and  old  as  you  are, 
I  will  make  you  answer  for  your  infamous  treatment  of  that 
young  girl.” 

And  before  the  major  could  reply  he  dashed  out  to  pursue 
Mary  and  give  her  his  protection.  He  sought  her  in  vain 
upon  the  highway;  and  filled  with  bitterness, and  wondering 
why  she  had  so  scorned  him,  he  trudged  on  through  the 
darkness,  peering  about  him  vainly  for  the  poor  girl  for 
whom  he  would  have  sacrificed  his  life. 

“  Perhaps  it  was  merely  a  jest,”  suggested  Mrs.  Willitts. 
“  I  think  Mary  wholly  incapable  of  theft.  She  never  could 
have  intended  seriously  to  keep  the  brooch.” 

“  A  pretty  serious  jest,”  said  the  major,  “  to  break  into  my 
desk  three  days  ago.  It’s  the  kind  of  humor  that  puts  peo¬ 
ple  in  jail.” 

“  My  theory  about  the  matter,”  said  the  doctor,  “  is  this : 
She  either  was  made  the  victim  of  a  pretty  ugly  practical 
joke,  or  else  some  one  stole  the  jewel  from  you  and  gave  it 
to  her  to  get  her  into  trouble.” 

“  I  don’t  believe  anything  of  the  kind,”  said  the  major. 

“  It  must  be  so.  If  she  had  stolen  it,  she  certainly  would 
not  have  worn  it  in  your  presence  this  evening.  It  is  absurd 
to  suppose  such  a  thing.  Taking  this  theory — ” 

“  Hang  theorizing !”  exclaimed  the  major,  seeing  the  force 
of  this  suggestion,  but  more  angry  that  he  was  driven  to 
admit  it  to  his  own  mind.  “  She  is  a  thief,  and  as  sure  as  1 
live  she  shall  either  confess,  tell  how  she  got  the  jewel  or  go 
to  prison.”  * 

“And  as  sure  as  I  live,”  said  the  doctor,  grown  indignant 
and  serious,  “  I  will  unravel  this  mystery  and  clear  this  in¬ 
nocent  girl  of  this  most  infamous  and  wicked  imputation.” 

“  Do  it  if  you  can !”  said  the  major,  and  turned  his  back 
upon  him  contemptuously. 

The  doctor  left  the  house,  and  the  company  dispersed. 


221 


A  SECRET. 

V 

eager  gossips,  all  of  them,  to  tell  the  story  far  and  wide 
throughout  the  community  before  to-morrow’s  noon. 

jK  *  *  sf: 

When  Mary  had  revived  and  told,  in  broken  words,  the 
story  of  her  misery  and  disgrace,  her  mother  soothed  and 
comforted  her  with  the  assurance  that  she  should  never  leave 
her  again ;  and  while  she  denounced  Major  Newton’s  conduct 
bitterly,  she  said  he  would  find  that  he  had  made  a  mistake 
and  would  clear  her  of  the  charge. 

“  But  he  will  not  find  it  out,  mother.” 

“  Why  ?  Where  did  you  get  the  brooch,  Mary  ?” 

“  Do  not  ask  me,  mother ;  I  cannot,  cannot  tell  you.” 

“  Had  you  merely  picked  it  up  and  put  it  on  in  jest?” 

“No,  no,”  said  Mary,  “it  was  given  to  me,  I  cannot  tell 
by  whom,  and  I  thought  it  was  mine.  It  was  cruel,  cruel !” 
and  her  tears  came  again. 

“  And  who  was  it  that  did  so  vile  a  thing  ?”  asked  her 
mother. 

“  Mother,  I  cannot  tell  even  you  that.” 

“  But,  Mary,  this  is  foolish.  You  must  not,  for  your  own 
sake,  for  mine,  hide  the  name  of  this  criminal.” 

“  I  will  never,  never  tell.  I  will  die  first.” 

“Was  it  Tom  Willitts?” 

“  You  must  not  question  me,  mother,”  said  Mary,  firmly. 
“  If  the  person  who  betrayed  me  is  cowardly  enough  to  place 
me  in  such  a  position,  and  then  to  stand  coldly  by  and  wit¬ 
ness  my  shame,  I  am  brave  enough  and  true  enough  to 
bear  the  burden.  I  would  rather  have  this  misery  than 
his  conscience.” 

Tom  Willitts  knocked  at  the  door. 

“  If  it  is  Tom  Willitts,  mother,”  said  Mary,  rising,  “  tell 
him  I  will  not  see  him.  Tell  him  never  to  come  to  this 
house  again.  Tell  him,”  she  said,  her  eyes  glowing  with 
excitement,  and  stamping  her  foot  upon  the  floor,  “  tell  him  I 


222 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 

9 

hate  him — hate  him  for  a  false,  mean  villain !”  and  she  fell 
back  upon  the  chair  in  a  wild  passion  of  tears. 

Mrs.  Engle  met  Tom  at  the  door.  He  was  filled  with 
anxiety  and  terror,  but  he  rejoiced  that  Mary  was  safe. 
Mrs.  Engle  told  him  that  Mary  refused  to  see  him.  He 
was  smitten  with  anguish,  and  begged  for  a  single  word 
with  her. 

“  Do  you  know  anything  about  this  wicked  business,  Mr. 
Willitts  ?”  asked  Mrs.  Engle,  suspicious,  because  of  Mary’s 
words,  that  Tom  was  the  criminal. 

“Upon  my  honor  I  do  not.  I  heard  Major  Newton’s 
language,  and  saw  the  brooch  upon  the  floor;  and  when 
Mary  fled  from  me,  I  pursued  her,  wondering  what  it  all 
meant.” 

“  She  evidently  suspects  you  of  having  been  the  cause  of 
the  trouble.  Prove  that  you  were  not.  Until  then  she  will 
.  not  see  you.  I  beg  you,  for  yourself  and  her,  to  tell  the 
truth  about  this,  if  you  know  it,  or  at  least  to  persist  till  you 
discover  it. 

Tom  went  away  distressed  and  confounded.  She  sus¬ 
pected  him.  No  wonder,  then,  she  had  spurned  him  so 
rudely.  He  thought  the  matter  over,  and  could  arrive  at 
no  solution  of  the  difficulty.  He  had  sent  her  a  bracelet 
which  she  had  promised  to  wear,  but  she  had  not  worn  it. 

It  was  impossible  that  this  brooch  could  have  been  substi- 

• 

tuted.  No,  his  own  servant  had  given  it  to  her,  and  brought 
her  thanks  in  return.  Besides,  who  could  be  base  enough  to 
play  such  a  dastardly  trick  upon  a  pretty  young  girl  ?  He 
could  not  master  the  situation ;  and  in  his  trouble  he  went 
the  next  morning  to  Dr.  Ricketts. 

The  doctor  was  equally  puzzled,  but  he  was  certain  that 
there  was  foul  play  somewhere.  He  had  pledged  himself  to 
unravel  the  mystery,  and  he  began  the  work  by  visiting 
Mary.  Alone,  he  went  to  her  house.  He  found  it  in 


AN  IMPENETRABLE  MYSTERY. 


223 


strange  commotion.  Mrs.  Engle  was  sitting  upon  the  sofa, 
crying  bitterly ;  Mary,  with  pale,  sad  face,  but  with  an  air 
of  determination,  confronted  an  obsequious  man,  who,  with 
many  apologies  and  a  manner  that  proved  that  he  was 
ashamed  of  his  business,  extended  a  paper  toward  her,  and 
requested  her  to  accompany  him. 

It  was  a  constable  wTith  a  warrant  for  her  arrest. 

Nearly  five  weary  months  were  to  pass  before  the  cruel 
time  of  the  trial.  Dr.  Ricketts  busied  himself  examining 
every  one  who  could  possibly  have  been  connected  with  the 
affair  of  the  brooch,  but  with  no  result  but  a  deeper  mystery. 
Tom’s  servant  swore  that  he  had  given  the  bracelet  into 
Mary’s  own  hand.  Two  of  the  house  servants  at  Major 
Newton’s  were  present  at  the  time,  and  they  were  certain 
the  package  was  not  broken.  Mary’s  thimble  had  been 
found  under  the  broken  desk  in  which  the  brooch  was  kept, 
and  the  housemaid  had  discovered  a  chisel  secreted  behind 
some  books  in  the  bookcase  in  her  room. 

The  evidence,  slight  though  it  was,  pointed  to  Mary  as 
the  criminal,  despite  the  absurdity  of  the  supposition,  in 
view  of  the  manner  in  which  she  had  worn  the  jewel.  Mary 
herself  preserved  an  obstinate  silence,  refusing  to  tell  how 
or  where  or  from  whom  she  procured  the  fatal  brooch.  The 
doctor  was  bewildered  and  confounded,  and  he  at  last  gave 
up  his  inquiries  in  despair,  hoping  for  a  gracious  verdict 
from  the  jury  at  the  trial. 

Through  all  the  weary  time  Mary  kept  closely  at  home, 
secluded  from  friends  and  acquaintances.  Indeed,  visitors 
were  few  in  number  now.  She  was  in  humble  circumstances, 
and  she  was  in  disgrace.  Society  always  accounts  its  mem¬ 
bers  guilty  until  their  innocence  is  proved.  There  were 
people  in  the  town  who  had  been  jealous  of  her  beauty, 
her  popularity,  her  place  in  the  affections  of  rich  Tom  Wil- 
litts,  and  these  did  not  hesitate  to  hint,  with  a  sneer,  that 


224 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


they  had  always  doubted  the  reported  excellence  of  Mary 
Engle,  and  to  assert  their  belief  in  her  guilt. 

Tom  Willitts  was  nearly  crazed  about  her  treatment  of 
him  and  the  ignominy  that  was  heaped  upon  her.  With 
Dr.  Ricketts  and  Dick  Newton,  who  professed  intense  anxi¬ 
ety  to  help  solve  the  matter,  he  strove  valiantly  to  clear  her 
of  the  charge,  but  without  avail. 

The  day  of  the  trial  came.  The  court-room  was  crowded. 
Able  lawyers  on  both  sides  sparred  with  each  other,  as  able 
lawyers  do,  but  the  heart  of  the  prosecuting  attorney  was 
evidently  not  with  his  work.  His  duty  was  clear,  however, 
and  the  evidence  was  overwhelming.  The  defence  had 
nothing  to  offer  but  Mary’s  good  character  and  her  ap¬ 
pearance  before  the  company  with  the  brooch  upon  her 
person. 

The  judge  was  compelled  to  instruct  the  jury  against  the 
prisoner.  An  hour  of  anxious  suspense,  and  they  returned 
a  verdict  of  “  guilty.” 

Mrs.  Engle  began  to  sob  violently.  Mary  drew  her  veil 
aside  from  a  face  that  was  ashen  white,  but  not  a  muscle 
quivered  until  the  judge  pronounced  the  sentence  : 

“Costs  of  prosecution,  a  fine  of  one  hundred  dollars, 
twenty  lashes  upon  the  bare  back  on  the  Saturday  fol¬ 
lowing,  and  imprisonment  for  one  year.” 

Mary  fell  to  the  floor  insensible,  and  Dr.  Ricketts,  raising 
her  in  his  arms,  applied  restoratives.  She  was  removed  to 
the  jail  to  await  her  punishment. 

The  doctor  mounted  his  horse  and  sped  away  in  hot  haste 
forty  miles  to  Dover.  He  had  influence  with  the  governor. 
He  would  procure  a  pardon,  and  then  have  Mary  taken 
away  from  the  scene  of  her  tribulation — where  her  suffering 
and  disgrace  would  be  forgotten,  and  she  would  be  at  peace. 
He  was  unsuccessful.  The  governor  was  a  just,  not  a  mer¬ 
ciful,  man.  The  law  had  been  outraged.  Twelve  good  jnen 


DICK  CONFESSES. 


225 


and  true  had  said  so.  If  people  committed  crimes,  they  must 
submit  to  the  penalty.  Society  must  be  protected.  The  in¬ 
telligence  and  social  position  of  the  criminal  only  made  the 
demands  of  justice  more  imperative.  If  he  pardoned  Mary 
Engle,  men  would  rightly  say  that  the  poor  and  friendless 
and  weak  were  punished,  while  the  influential  and  rich  es¬ 
caped  the  law.  He  must  do  his  duty  to  Delaware  and  to  her 
people.  He  could  not  grant  the  pardon. 

But  there  was  to  be  another  appeal  to  executive  mercy. 
It  was  the  night  before  the  punishment.  The  doctor  sat  in  his 
parlor,  before  the  glowing  fire  in  the  grate,  and  with  his  head 
resting  upon  his  hand  he  thought  sadly  of  the  pitiful  scene 
he  had  witnessed  in  the  jail  from  which  he  had  just  come — 
of  Mary,  in  the  damp,  narrow  cell,  bearing  herself  like  a 
heroine  through  all  this  terrible  trial,  and  still  keeping  a 
secret  which  the  doctor  felt  certain  would  give  her  back  her 
freedom  and  her  good  name  if  it  could  be  disclosed ;  of  Mrs. 
Engle,  full  of  despair  and  terror,  crying  bitterly  over  the 
shame  and  disgrace  that  had  come  upon  her  child,  and 
which  would  be  increased  beyond  endurance  on  the  morrow. 

As  the  doctor’s  kind  old  heart  gfew  heavy  with  these 
thoughts,  and  from  the  bewildering  maze  of  circumstances  he 
tried  to  evolve  some  theory  that  promised  salvation,  Dick 
Newton  entered. 

He  was  haggard  and  pale,  and  his  eyes  were  cast  down  to 
the  floor. 

“Why,  Dick,  what’s  the  matter?”  asked  the  doctor. 

“  Dr.  Ricketts,  I  have  come  to  make  a  shameful  con¬ 
fession.  I — ” 

“Well?”  said  the  doctor,  suspiciously  and  impatiently,  as 
Dick’s  voice  faltered. 

“  I  will  not  hesitate  about  it,”  said  Dick,  hurriedly ;  “  I 
am  afraid  it  is  even  now  too  late.  I  stole  the  diamond 
brooch.” 


226 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  What  ?”  exclaimed  the  doctor,  jumping  to  his  feet  in  a 
frenzy  of  indignant  excitement. 

“  I  am  the  cause  of  all  this  trouble.  It  was  my  fault  that 
Mary  Engle  was  accused  and  convicted,  and  it  will  be  my 
fault  if  she  is  punished.  Oh,  doctor,  cannot  something  be 

done  to  save  her  ?  I  never 
intended  it  should  go  so 
far.” 

“  You  infamous  scoun 
drel !”  said  the  doctor,  un. 
able  to  restrain  his  scorn 
and  contempt ;  “  why  did 
you  not  say  this  before? 
Why  did  you  permit  all 
this  misery  and  shame  to 
fall  upon  the  defenceless 
head  of  a  woman  for  whom 
an  honest  man  should  have 


was  this  villainy  consum¬ 
mated  ?  Tell  me,  quickly !” 

The  poor  wretch  sank  upon  his  knees,  and  with  a  trem¬ 
bling  voice  exclaimed, 

“I  loved  her.  I  hated  Tom  Willitts.  He  sent  her  a 
bracelet.  I  knew  it  would  come.  I  broke  open  father’s 
cabinet  and  took  his  brooch.  With  threats  and  money  I 
induced  Tom’s  servant  to  lend  me  the  box  for  a  few  moments 
before  he  entered  the  house.  I  placed  the  brooch  in  it.  She 
thought  it  came  from  Tom,  and  she  resolved  to  die  rather 
than  betray  him,  although  she  thinks  him  the  cause  of  her 
ruin.  It  was  vile  and  mean  and  wicked  in  me,  but  I  thought 
Tom  would  be  the  victim,  not  she;  and  when  the  trouble 
came,  I  could  not  endure  the  shame  of  exposure.  But  you 
will  save  her  now,  doctor,  will  you  not  ?  I  will  fly — leave 


sacrificed  his  very  life?  How 


FLOGGING-BAY. 


227 


the  country — kill  myself — anything  to  prevent  this  awful 
crime.” 

The  miserable  man  burst  into  tears.  Dr.  Ricketts  looked 
at  him  a  moment  with  eyes  filled  with  pity  and  scorn,  and 
then  said, 

“  So  my  theory  was  right,  after  all.  Come,  sir,  you  will 
go  to  the  governor  with  me,  and  we  will  see  if  he  will  grant 
a  pardon  upon  your  confession.” 

“  What,  to-night  ?”  asked  Dick. 

“Yes,  to-night — now;  and  it  will  be  well  for  you  and 
your  victim  if  fleet  horses  carry  us  to  Dover  and  back 
before  ten  to-morrow  morning.” 

In  five  minutes  the  pair  were  seated  in  a  carriage,  and 
through  the  black  night  they  sped  onward,  the  one  with  his 
heart  swelling  with  hope,  joy  and  humanity,  the  other  cow¬ 
ering  in  the  darkness,  full  of  misery  and  self-contempt,  and 
of  horrible  forebodings  of  the  future. 

BMB  ■<  qMg  -vlv 

■'T*  'T'  *7* 

Saturday  morning — a  cold,  raw,  gusty  morning  in  May. 

The  town  was  in  a  small  uproar.  Men  lounged  on  the 
porches  of  the  taverns,  in  front  of  which  their  horses  were 
hitched,  talking  politics,  discussing  crop  prospects,  the 
prices  of  grain,  the  latest  news  by  coach  and  schooner  from 
Philadelphia.  Inside  the  bar-room  men  were  reading  news¬ 
paper's  a  month  old,  drinking,  swearing  and  debating  with 
loud  voices. 

But  the  attraction  that  morning  was  in  another  quarter. 
In  the  middle  of  the  market  street  there  was  a  common — a 
strip  of  green  sod  twenty  feet  wide  fringed  on  either  side  with 
a  row  of  trees.  In  the  centre  of  this  stood  the  whipping-post 
and  pillory. 

The  hour  of  ten  tolled  out  from  the  steeple  down  the 
street.  It  was  the  same  bell  that  called  the  people  together 

on  Sunday  to  worship  God  and  to  supplicate  his  mercy.  It 
19 


228 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


was  a  bell  of  various  uses.  It  summoned  the  saints  to  prayer 
and  the  sinners  to  punishment. 

At  its  earliest  stroke  the  jailer  issued  from  the  prison  with 
a  forlorn-looking  white  man  in  his  clutches.  He  hurried  his 
prisoner  up  the  ladder,  and  prepared  to  fasten  him  in  the  pil¬ 
lory.  The  boys  below  collected  in  knots,  and  fingered  the  mis¬ 
siles  in  their  hands.  The  jailer  descended.  A  boy  lifted  his 
hand  and  flung  a  rotten  egg  at  the  pilloried  wretch.  It  hit 
him  squarely  in  the  face,  and  the  feculent  contents  streamed 
down  to  his  chin.  That  was  the  signal.  Eggs,  dead  cats, 
mud,  stones,  tufts  of  sod  and  a  multitude  of  filthy  things 
were  showered  upon  the  prisoner,  until  the  platform  was 
covered  with  the  debris.  He  yelled  with  pain,  and  strove 
vainly  to  shake  from  his  face  the  blood  that  streamed  forth 
from  the  cut  skin  and  the  filth  that  be¬ 
smeared  it.  The  crowd  hooted  at  him  and 
laughed  at  'His  efforts,  and  called  him  vile 
names,  and  jested  w’ith  him  about  his 
wooden  collar  and  cuffs,  and  no  human 
heart  in  all  that  assembly  had  any  pity  for  him.  For  an 
hour  he  stood  there,  enduring  inconceivable  torture.  When 
the  steeple  clock  struck  eleven,  he  was  taken  out  in  wretched 
plight,  almost  helpless  and  sorely  wounded.  No  more  pil¬ 
lory  that  day.  It  was  the  turn  of  the  whipping-post  now. 
There  were  two  women  to  be  whipped,  one  of  them  white, 
the  other  black.  AVe  know  who  the  white  woman  was. 

The  negro  was  to  suffer  first.  She  was  dragged  from  the  jail 
wild  with  fright  and  apprehension.  Around  her  legs  a  soiled 
skirt  of  calico  dangled.  About  her  naked  body,  stripped 
for  the  sacrifice,  a  fragment  of  carpet  was  hung.  The  jailer 
brought  her  by  main  force  to  the  post  through  the  jeering 
crowd,  and  while  she  begged  wildly,  almost  incoherently,  for 
mercy,  promising  vague,  impossible  things,  the  officer  of  the 
law  clasped  the  iron  cuffs  about  her  uplifted  hands,  so  that 


\ 


/ 


I  fee  Ifbrtry 

oi 

'•Jjpt+rti ty  of  IffUvdtf 


"  i 


THE  LASH  FALLS. 


231 


she  was  compelled  to  stand  upon  her  toes  to  escape  unendur¬ 
able  agony.  The  blanket  was  torn  from  her  shoulders,  and 
with  dilated  eyes  glistening  with  terror,  she  turned  her  head 
half  around  to  where  the  sheriff  stood,  ready  to  execute  the 
law. 

This  virtuous  officer  felt  the  sharp  thongs  of  his  “cat” 
complacently  as  he  listened  with  dull  ear  to  the  incessant 
prayers  of  the  woman;  and  when  the  jailer  said,  “Forty 
lashes,  sheriff,”  the  cat  was  swung  slowly  up,  and  the  ends 
of  the  lashes  touched  the  victim’s  back,  bringing  blood  at  the 
first  blow. 

The  crowd  laughed  and  applauded.  The  sheriff  accepted 
the  applause  with  the  calm  indifference  of  a  man  who  feels 
the  greatness  of  his  office  and  has  confidence  in  his  own 
skill. 

As  the  lashes  came  thick  and  fast,  the  skin  swelled  up 
into  thick  purple  ridges,  and  then  the  blood  spurted  out  in 
crimson  streams,  flowing  down  upon  the  wretched  skirt  and 
staining  it  with  a  new  and  dreadful  hue.  The  woman’s 
piercing  screams  rang  out  upon  the  air  and  filled  some  kind 
hearts  with  tender  pity.  But  as  it  was  a  “  nigger,”  the  tend¬ 
ency  to  human  kindness  was  smothered. 

Beneath  the  blows  she  writhed  and  contorted  and  shrank 
forward,  until  at  last,  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  with  terrible 
pain  and  nervous  exhaustion,  she  sank  helplessly  down  and 
hung  by  her  arms  alone.  At  first  the  sheriff  thought  he 
would  postpone  the  rest  of  the  punishment  until  she  recovered. 
But  there  were  only  five  more  lashes  to  be  given,  and  he  con¬ 
cluded  that  it  would  be  as  well  to  finish  up  the  job.  They 
were  inflicted  upon  the  insensible  form,  and  then  the  jailer 
came  forward  with  a  pair  of  shears.  The  sheriff  took  them 
coolly  and  clipped  away  a  portion  of  the  woman’s  ears.  Her 
hands  were  then  unshackled ;  and  bleeding,  mutilated,  uncon¬ 
scious,  she  was  carried  into  the  prison. 


232 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Her  agonized  cries  had  penetrated  those  walls  already  and 
brought  a  whiter  hue  to  the  pale  cheeks  of  the  woman  who 
by  this  ignominy  had  learned  her  sisterhood  with  the  poor 
black.  There  were  two  other  women  in  the  cell,  Mrs.  Engle 
and  Mrs.  Willitts.  The  former  controlled  herself  for  her 
daughter’s  sake,  but  dared  speak  no  word  to  her.  Mrs. 
Willitts,  through  her  tears,  tried  to  comfort  Mary  as  with 
hesitating  hands  she  disrobed  her  for  her  torture: 

“  The  day  will  come,  Mary  dear,  when  you  will  be  vindi¬ 
cated,  and  these  wicked  men  will  hide  their  heads  with  bitter 
shame  and  humiliation.  But  bear  up  bravely,  dear.  Have 
good  courage  through  it  all.  Perhaps  it  will  not  be  so  hard. 
1  Though  there  be  heaviness  for  a  night,  joy  cometh  in  the 
morning.’  We  will  all  be  happy  together  yet  some  day.” 

Mary  Engle  stood  there,  speechless,  statue-like,  immov¬ 
able,  as  they  took  away  her  garments,  and  her  fair  white 
skin  glistened  in  the  dim  light. 

It  was  almost  time.  The  black  woman  was  being  dragged 
through  the  door  to  the  next  cell.  The  murmur  of  the  crowd 
came  up  from  the  street.  Mrs.  Willitts  placed  the  blanket 
upon  those  ivory  shoulders,  and  Mary,  turning  to  her  mo¬ 
ther,  flung  her  arms  about  her  and  kissed  her.  In  a  whisper 
she  said, 

“  I  shall  die,  mother.  I  will  not  live  through  it.  I  will 
never  see  you  again.” 

But  there  was  not  a  tear  in  her  eye.  Wrapping  the  blanket 
tightly  about  her,  with  the  calmness  of  despair  she  prepared 
to  step  from  the  cell  at  the  call  of  the  impatient  jailer. 

A  great  commotion  in  the  streets.  The  noise  of  horse’s 
hoofs.  A  din  of  voices ;  then  a  wild  cheer. 

Dr.  Bicketts  dashed  in,  flourishing  a  paper  in  his  hand. 

“  She  is  pardoned !  pardoned  !”  he  shouted ;  “  go  back  ! 
take  her  back !”  he  said  as  the  jailer  laid  his  hand  upon 
Mary.  “See  this/”  and  he  flung  the  paper  open  in  his  face. 


OUT  OF  PRISON. 


233 


The  long  agony  was  oyer,  and  the  reaction  was  so  great 
that  Mary  Engle,  hardly  conscious  of  the  good  thing  that 
had  happened  to  her,  and  not  fully  realizing  the  events  by 
which  her  innocence  was  proved,  stood  stupefied  and  bewil¬ 


dered.  Then  she  felt  faint,  and  laying  her  upon  the  low 
bed,  they  told  her  all  the  story ;  and  when  the  doctor  said 
that  Tom  was  not  a  guilty  man,  she  turned  her  face  to  the 
wall  to  hide  the  blinding  tears,  and  she  muttered : 

“  Thank  God !  thank  God  for  that !” 

As  she  came  out  of  the  prison  doors,  leaning  on  the  doc¬ 
tor’s  arm,  the  crowd,  now  largely  increased,  hailed  her  with 
a  hurrah,  but  Mary  drew  her  veil  over  her  face  and  shud¬ 
dered  as  she  thought  how  these  very  people  had  assembled 

to  see  her  flogged. 

iy*  . 


234 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  It  is  my  theory,  my  dear,”  said  the  doctor,  “  that  human 
beings  are  equally  glad  when  their  fellow-creatures  get  into 
trouble  and  when  they  get  out  of  it.” 

Back  once  again  in  her  old  home,  Mary  was  besieged  by 
friends  whose  regard  had  suddenly  assumed  a  violent  form, 
and  who  were  now  eager  to  congratulate  her  upon  her  vin¬ 
dication. 

Tom  Willitts  came  to  the  door  and  inquired  for  Mrs. 
Engle. 

“  Can  I  come  in  now  ?”  he  inquired,  with  a  glow  upon  his 
face. 

He  did  go  in,  and  there,  before  them  all,  he  clasped  Mary 
in  his  arms,  while  she  begged  him  to  forgive  her  for  all  the 
suffering  she  had  caused  him. 

But  Tom  wanted  to  be  forgiven,  too ;  and  as  both  confessed 
guilt,  repentance  and  an  earnest  wish  to  be  merciful,  they 
were  soon  better  friends  than  ever. 

“  I  used  to  love  you,”  said  Tom,  “  but  now  I  worship  you 
for  your  heroism  and  your  sacrifice  for  me.” 

There  was  another  visitor.  Old  Major  Newton  entered 
the  room,  hat  in  hand,  and  with  bowed  head.  The  lines  in 
his  face  were  deeper  and  harder  than  usual,  but  he  looked 
broken  and  sad. 

He  went  up  to  Mary  and  said  as  he  stood  before  her  with 
downcast  eyes : 

“  I  have  come  to  ask  pardon  for  my  brutality  and  cruelty. 
The  injury  I  did  to  you  I  can  never  atone  for.  I  shall  carry 
my  remorse  to  the  grave.  But  if  you  have  any  word  of  pity 
for  an  old  man  whose  son  has  fled  from  home  a  scoundrel 
and  a  villain,  and  who  stands  before  you  broken-hearted, 
ready  to  kiss  your  feet  for  your  angelic  goodness  and  your 
noble  self-sacrifice,  say  it,  that  I  may  at  least  have  that 
comfort  in  my  desolation.” 

And  Mary  took  the  old  man’s  hard  hands  in  hers  and 


AN  ANNIVERSARY. 


235 


spoke  kind  and  gentle  words  to  him ;  and  with  tears  coursing 
down  his  rough  cheeks,  he  kissed 
her  dainty  fingers  and  went  out, 
and  back  to  his  forlorn  and 
wretched  home. 

There  was  another  Christmas 
night  a  few  months  later,  and 
this  time  the  merry-making  was 
going  on  in  the  Willitts  mansion. 

There  were  two  brides  there. 

Mary  and  Tom  Willitts  were 
busy  helping  the  children  with  their  Christmas  games,  and 
keeping  up  the  excitement  as  if  no  sorrow  had  ever  come 
across  their  path  ;  while  seated  at  the  upper  end  of  the  room, 
Dr.  Ricketts  and  his  wife  (Mrs.  Engle  that  had  been),  looking 
upon  the  younger  pair  with  pride  and  pleasure,  touched  only 
now  and  then  with  a  sad  memory  of  the  troubled  times  that 
were  gone  by  for  ever. 

And  when  the  games  were  all  in  full  progress,  Tom  and 
his  wife  watched  them  for  a  while,  and  then  he  drew  her 
arm  through  his,  and  they  went  to  the  porch  and  looked  out 
upon  the  river  beating  up  against  the  ice-bound  shore,  just 
as  it  did  on  that  night  one  year  ago.  But  it  had  a  different 
language  to  Mary’s  ears  now.  It  was  full  of  music,  but 
music  that  seemed  in  a  minor  key,  as  the  remembrance 
of  that  wild  flight  along  the  shore  came  up  vividly  in  her 
mind. 

Neither  spoke  for  a  while,  but  each  knew  that  the  thoughts 
of  the  other  went  over  all  the  misery  and  terror  of  the  past, 
only  to  rest  satisfied  with  the  calm,  sweet  happiness  of  the 
present.  Mary,  clasping  her  husband’s  arm  tighter  in  her 
grasp,  looked  with  unconscious  eyes  out  over  the  broad 
river,  while  her  lips  slowly  repeated  that  grand  old  hymn  of 
comfort  and  hope : 


236 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY 


“  There  is  a  day  of  peace  and  rest 

For  sorrow’s  dark  and  dreary  night ; 
Though  grief  may  bide  an  evening  guest. 
Yet  joy  shall  come  with  morning  light. 

“  The  light  of  smiles  shall  beam  again 
From  lids  that  now  o’erflow  with  tears, 
And  weary  days  of  woe  and  pain 
Are  earnests  of  serener  years.” 


% 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A  Very  Disagreeable  Predicament — Wild  Exultation  of 
Parker — He  makes  an  Important  Announcement — An 
Interview  with  the  Old  Man — The  Embarrassment  of 
Mr.  Sparks,  and  how  he  Overcame  it  —  A  Story  of 
Bishop  Potts — The  Miseries  of  too  much  Marriage — 
How  Potts  Suffered,  and  what  his  End  was. 


AST  evening,  after  waiting  until 
eleven  o’clock  for  Mr.  Parker 
to  come  home,  I  went  to  bed. 
I  had  hardly  composed  my¬ 
self  for  slumber  when  I  thought 
I  heard  the  door-bell  ring ;  and 
supposing  Bob  had  forgotten 
his  latch-key,  I  descended  for 
the  purpose  of  letting  him  in. 
When  I  opened  the  door,  no 
one  was  upon  the  porch  ;  and 
although  I  was  dressed  simply 
in  a  night-shirt,  I  stepped  out 
just  beyond  the  doorway  for 
the  purpose  of  ascertaining  if 
I  could  see  any  one  who  might  have  pulled  the  bell.  Just 
as  I  did  so  the  wind  banged  the  door  shut,  and  as  it  closed 
it  caught  a  portion  of  my  raiment  which  was  fluttering 
about,  and  held  it  fast.  I  was  somewhat  amused  at  first, 
and  I  laughed  as  I  tried  to  pull  the  muslin  from  the  door ; 
but  after  making  very  violent  exertion  for  that  purpose,  I 

237 


238 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


discovered  that  the  material  would  not  slip  through.  The 
garment  was  held  so  firmly  that  it  could  not  possibly  be  re¬ 
moved.  Then  I  determined  to 
reach  over  to  the  other  side  of 
the  doorway  and  pull  the  bell,  in 
the  hope  that  some  one  would 
hear  it  and  come  to  my  assist¬ 
ance.  But  to  my  dismay  I 
found  that  the  doorway  was  so 
wide  that  even  with  the  most 
desperate  effort  I  could  not  suc¬ 
ceed  in  touching  the  bell-knob 
with  the  tips  of  my  fingers. 

Meantime,  I  was  beginning  to 
freeze,  for  the  night  was  very 
cold,  and  my  legs  and  feet  were 


wholly  unprotected. 

At  last  a  happy  thought 
struck  me.  I  might  very 
easily  creep  out  of  the  shirt 
and  leave  it  hanging  in  the 
door  until  I  rang  the  bell, 
and  then  I  could  slip  back 
again  and  await  the  result. 

Accordingly,  I  began  to 
withdraw  from  the  gar¬ 
ment,  and  I  had  just  freed 
myself  from  it  and  was 
about  to  pull  the  bell  when 
I  heard  some  one  coming 
down  the  street.  As  the 
moon  was  shining  brightly, 

I  became  panic-stricken, 
and  hurried  into  the  garment  again.  In  my  confusion  I  got 


TROUSERS  AND  THE  SOUL. 


239 


it  on  backward,  and  found  myself  with  my  face  to  the  wall ; 
and  then  the  person  who  was  coming  turned  down  the  street 

just  above  my  house,  and  didn’t 
pass,  after  all. 

I  was  afraid  to  try  the  ex¬ 
periment  again,  and  I  deter¬ 
mined  to  shout  for  help.  I  ut¬ 
tered  one  cry,  and  waited  for  a 
response.  It  wTas  a  desperately 
cold  night.  I  think  the  air 
must  have  been  colder  than 
it  ever  wTas  before  in  the  his¬ 
tory  of  this  continent.  I  stamped 
my  feet  in  order  to  keep  the 
blood  in  circulation,  and  then  I 
shouted  again  for  assistance. 
The  river  lay  white  and  glistening  in  the  light  of  the  moon, 
and  so  clear  was  the  atmosphere,  so  lustrous  the  radiance  of 
the  orb  above,  that  I  could  plainly  distinguish  the  dark  line 
of  the  Jersey  shore.  It  was  a 
magnificent  spectacle,  and  I 
should  have  enjoyed  it  intensely 
if  I  had  had  my  clothing  on. 

Then  I  began  to  think  how 
very  odd  it  was  that  a  man’s 
appreciation  of  the  glorious 
majesty  of  nature  should  be 
dependent  upon  his  trousers ! 
how  strange  it  was  that  cold 
legs  should  prevent  an  immor¬ 
tal  soul  from  having  felicity! 

Man  is  always  prosaic  when  he 
is  uncomfortable.  Even  a  slight 
indigestion  is  utterly  destructive  of  sentiment.  I  defy  any  man 


240 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


to  enjoy  the  fruitiest  poetry  while  his  corns  hurt  him,  or  to 
feel  a  genuine  impulse  of  affection  while  he  has  a  severe  cold 
in  his  head. 

Then  I  cried  aloud  again  for  help,  and  an  immediate  re¬ 
sponse  came  from  Cooley’s  new  dog,  which  leaped  over  the 
fence  and  behaved  as  if  it  meditated  an  assault  upon  my 

defenceless  calves.  I  was 
relieved  from  this  dreadful 
situation  by  Bob,  who  came 
up  the  street  whistling  and 
singing  in  an  especially  joy¬ 
ous  manner.  H  e  was  a 
little  frightened,  I  think, 
when  he  saw  a  figure  in 
white  upon  the  porch,  and 
he  paused  for  a  moment  be¬ 
fore  opening  the  gate,  but 
he  entered  when  I  called  to 
him ;  and  unlocking  the  door 
with  his  key,  he  released  me, 
and  went  up  stairs  laughing 
heartily  at  my  mishap. 

I  was  about  to  retire  when  I  heard  a  series  of  extraordinary 
sounds  in  Bob’s  room  overhead,  and  I  thought  it  worth  while 
to  go  up  and  ascertain  what  was  going  on.  Standing  out¬ 
side  the  door,  I  could  hear  Bob  chuckling 
and  making  use  of  such  exclamations  as, 

“  Bul-l-e-e-e  /  Ha !  ha !  All  right,  my 
boyl  All  right!  You’ve  fixed  that,  I  guess! 

Bul-l-e-e-e-e-e  /” 

Then  he  seemed  to  be  executing  a  hornpipe 
in  his  stockings  upon  the  carpet ;  and  when.this  a  | 
exercise  was  concluded,  he  continued  the  con- 
versation  with  himself  in  such  tones  as  these : 


EXUBERANT  JOY  OF  BOB. 


241 


chR  Sc 


“  How  are  you, Smiley !  No  chance,  hadn’t  I?  Couldn’t 
make  it,  couldn’t  I  ?  I  know 
a  thing  or  two,  I  reckon. 

How  are  you,  Lieutenant 
Smil-e-e-e-e  /  Ha  !  ha !  I’ve 
settled  your  case,  I  guess, 
my  boy!  Bully  for  you, 

Parker !  You’ve  straight¬ 
ened  that  out,  anyhow.  Yes, 
sir !  Ha !  ha !  Fol  de  rol  de 
rol  de  rol,”  etc.,  etc.  (second 
performance  of  the  hornpipe, 
accompanied  by  whistling 
and  new  expressions  of  in¬ 
tense  satisfaction) . 

I  went  down  stairs  with  a 
solemn  conviction  that  Mr. 

Parker  had  explained  himself  to  Miss  Magruder,  and  had 
received  an  answer  from  her  that  was  wholly  satis¬ 
factory.  I  did  not  reveal  the  secret  to  Mrs.  Adeler, 
concluding  that  it  would  be  better  to  permit  Bob 
to  do  that  himself  in  the  morning. 

Parker  rose  about  two  hours  earlier  than  usual, 
and  I  entertain  a  suspicion  that  he  expended  a  portion  of 
the  time  in  going  down  the  street  to  examine 
the  exterior  of  Mr.  Magruder’s  house.  It 
probably  gave  him  some  satisfaction  merely  to 
view  the  tenement  wherein  his  fair  enslaver 
reposed.  He  came  to  the  breakfast-table  with 
a  radiant  countenance,  and  it  was  evident  that 
he  would  be  unable  to  contain  the  news  for 
many  moments  longer.  In  order  to  prepare 
the  way  for  him,  I  asked  him : 

“  Why  were  you  so  late  last  night,  Bob?” 

20 


***<;<: — - 


242 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  Oh,  I  had  some  important  business  on  hand.  Big  things 
have  been  happening  ;  I  have  some  news  to  tell  you.” 

“  Another  railroad  accident  ?”  I  asked,  carelessly,  “  or  a 
riot  in  Philadelphia  ?” 

“  Riot  ?  no !  Thunder  !”  exclaimed  Bob ;  “  nothing  of 
that  kind.  It’s  something  more  important.  You  know  old 
Smiley — Fiji  Island  Smiley?  Well,  Pve  floored  him;  I’ve 
laid  him  out  flat ;  I’ve  knocked  him  into  diminutive  smith¬ 
ereens.” 

“  Had  a  personal  encounter  with  the  lieutenant  ?”  I  asked, 
gravely. 

“  No,  sir !  better  than  that.  I’ve  cut  him  out  down  at 
Magruder’s.  Bessie  and  I  are  engaged!  What  do  you 

think  of  that,  Max  ?” 

7  » 

“Think  of  it?  Why,  I  congratulate  you  heartily.  You 
have  secured  a  treasure.” 

“  And  I  congratulate  you,  too,”  said  Mrs.  A.  “  Bessie  is 
a  very  fine  girl,  and  will  make  you  a  good  wife.” 

“  That’s  what  I  think  about  it,”  observed  Mr.  Parker. 

“  I  am  very  glad  Lieutenant  Smiley  didn’t  succeed  there,” 
said  Mrs.  A. 

“  Smiley !  Smiley !”  exclaimed  Bob,  scornfully.  “  Why, 
he  never  had  the  ghost  of  a  chance.  Bessie  told  me  last 
night  she  despised  him.  She  wouldn’t  look  at  such  a  man 
as  he  is.” 

“  Not  while  such  men  as  you  are  around,  at  any  rate,  I 
suppose  ?” 

“  When  are  you  going  to  speak  to  Bessie’s  father  ?”  asked 
Mrs.  Adeler. 

A  cloud  suddenly  passed  over  Bob’s  face,  and  he  said : 

“  I  don’t  know.  I  have  to  do  it,  I  s’pose,  but  I  hate  it 
worse  than  I  can  tell  you.  I  believe  I’d  rather  propose  to 
a  woman  a  dozen  times  than  to  broach  the  matter  to  a  stern 
parent  once.  It’s  all  well  enough  to  express  your  feelings 


HOW  THE  OLD  MAN  TOOK  IT. 


243 


to  a  woman  who  loves  you  ;  but  when  you  come  to  explain 
the  matter  to  a  cold-blooded,  matter-of-fact  old  man  who  is 
as  prosy  as  a  boiled  turnip,  it  seems  kind  of  ridiculous.” 

“  Why  don’t  you  speak  to  Mrs.  Dr.  Magruder,  then  ?  She 
is  a  power  in  that  family.” 

“  No ;  I’ll  talk  to  Mr.  Magruder.  It’s  hard,  but  it  has  to 
be  done.  And  see  here,  Max,  don’t  you  poke  fun  at  Mrs. 
Magruder.  She’s  a  first-rate  woman,  and  those  things  Dr. 
Jones  told  about  her  are  the  most  rascally  kind  of  lies.  If 
you’ll  excuse  me,  I’ll  go  down  and  see  the  old  man  now.  I 
might  as  well  settle  the  thing  at  once.” 

This  evening,  while  we  were  waiting  for  tea,  Bob  made  a 
report.  The  paternal  Magruder,  it  seems,  had  already  con¬ 
sidered  the  subject  carefully,  and  was  not  by  any  means  as 
much  surprised  by  Mr.  Parker’s  statement  as  the  latter  ex¬ 
pected  he  would  be.  Bob  was  amazed  to  find  that  although 
the  old  gentleman  during  the  courtship  had  appeared  wholly 
unconscious  of  the  fact  that  his  daughter  was  particularly 
intimate  with  the  youth,  yet  somehow  he  seemed  now  to 
have  had  all  the  time  a  very  clear  perception  of  the  state  of 
the  case. 

“  I  thought  he  would  get  excited  and,  maybe,  show  a  lit¬ 
tle  emotion,”  said  Bob,  “  but  blame  me  if  he  didn’t  sit  there 
and  take  it  as  coolly  as  if  such  things  happened  to  him  every 
day.  And  you  know,  when  I  began  to  tell  him  how  much  I 
thought  of  Bessie,  he  soused  down  on  me  and  brought  me 
back  to  prose  with  a  question  about  the  size  of  my  income. 
But  it’s  all  right.  He  said  he  would  be  glad  to  have  me  a 
member  of  his  family,  and  then  he  called  in  Bessie,  and  gave 
us  a  kind  of  a  blessing  and  advised  us  not  to  be  in  a  hurry 
about  getting  married.” 

“Very  good  advice,  too.  There  is  no  need  of  haste. 
You  ought  to  have  plenty  of  time  to  think  the  matter 
over.” 


244 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  Think  it  over !”  exclaimed  Bob,  indignantly.  “  Why,  I 
have  thought  it  over.  You  don’t  suppose  I’d  be  such  a 
fool  as  to  engage  myself  to  a  girl  without  thinking  seriously 
about  it?” 

“Certainly  not ;  but  marriage  is  a  very  solemn  thing,  and 
it  should  be  undertaken  advisedly.  It  is  probable,  I  sup¬ 
pose,  that  you  would  never,  under  any  circumstances,  marry 
any  woman  but  Bessie  Magruder  ?” 

“  Nev-er ;  no,  never  I” 

“You  don’t  believe  in  second  marriages,  then?” 

“  Certainly  not.” 

“  They  do  get  a  man  into  trouble  very  often.  Did  I  ever 
tell  you  about  old  Sparks,  of  Pencadder  Hundred  ?” 

“  I  think  not,”  said 
Bob. 

“  Well,  old  Sparks 
was  married  four 
times ;  and  several 
years  after  the  death 
of  his  last  wife  they 
started  a  new  cem¬ 
etery  up  there  at 
Pencadder.  Sparks 
bought  a  lot,  and  determined  to  remove  his  sacred  dust 
from  the  old  graveyard. 

Somehow  or  other,  in 
taking  the  remains  over 
to  the  cemetery  in  the 
wagon,  they  were  hope¬ 
lessly  mixed  together, 
so  that  it  was  utterly 
impossible  to  tell  which 
was  which.  Any  other 
man  than  Sparks  would 


c  HR  sT 


EXTINGUISHED  SPARKS. 


245 


simply  have  taken  the  chances  of  having  the  reinterments 
properly  made.  But  he  was  an  extremely  conscientious 
man ;  and  when  the  sepulture  was  completed,  he  had  a  lot  of 
new  headstones  set  in,  bearing  such  inscriptions  as  these: 
*  Here  lies  Jane  (and  probably  part  of  Susan)  Sparks 
‘  Sacred  to  the  memory  of  Maria  (to  say  nothing  of  Jane 
and  Hannah)  Sparks.’ 

“ 1  Stranger,  pause  and  drop  a  tear, 

For  Susan  Sparks  lies  buried  here  ; 

Mingled,  in  some  perplexing  manner, 

With  Jane,  Maria  and  portions  of  Hannah.’  ” 

“  Don’t  it  seem  a  little  bit  rough,”  said  Bob,  “  to  bring  in 
such  a  story  as  that  in  connection  with  my  engagement  ?  I 
don’t  like  it.” 

“  Pardon  me,  Bob.  Perhaps  it  was  neither  gracious  nor 
in  good  taste,  but  somehow  I  just  happened  to  think  of  old 
Sparks  at  that  moment.  I  am  sure,  though,  you  won’t  object 
to  another  narrative  which  I  am  going  to  read  to  you  upon 
the  subject  of  too  frequent  marriage.  It  is  the  story  of  Bishop 
Potts.  Do  you  feel  like  hearing  it  ?” 

“Well,  no,”  said  Bob,  gloomily,  “to  tell  you  the  truth, I 
don’t ;  but  I  suppose  I  will  have  to  hear  it,  so  go  ahead.” 

“  Yes,  I  am  going  to  inflict  it  upon  you  whether  you  want 
it  or  not.  A  man  who  is  meditating  matrimony,  and  is  in 
a  hurry,  needs  the  influence  of  a  few  1  awful  examples  ’  to 
induce  him  to  proceed  slowly.  Here  is  the  story.  The 
hero  was  a  dignitary  in  the  Mormon  Church,  and  his  suffer¬ 
ings  were  the  result  of  excessive  marriage.  The  tale  is 
entitled 

“  Bishop  Potts. 

“Bishop  Potts,  of  Salt  Lake  City,  was  the  husband  of 
three  wives  and  the  father  of  fifteen  interesting  children. 


246 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Early  in  the  winter  the  bishop  deter¬ 
mined  that  his  little  ones  should 
have  a  good  time  on  Christmas,  so 
he  concluded  to  take  a  trip  down 
to  San  Francisco  to  see  what  he 
could  find  in  the  shape  of  toys  with 
which  to  gratify  and  amuse  them. 
The  good  bishop  packed  his  carpet¬ 
bag,  embraced  Mrs.  Potts  one  by  one 
and  kissed  each  of  her  affectionately, 
and  started  upon  his  journey. 

“  He  was  gone  a  little  more  than 
a  week,  when  he  came  back  with 
fifteen  brass  trumpets  in  his  valise 
for  his  darlings.  He  got  out  of  the  train  at  Salt  Lake, 
thinking  how  joyous  it  would  be  at  home  on  Christmas 
morning  when  the  fifteen  trumpets  should  be  in  operation 
upon  different  tunes  at  the  same  moment.  But  just  as  he 
entered  the  depdt  he  saw  a  group  of  women  standing  in  the 
ladies’  room  apparently  wait¬ 
ing  for  him.  As  soon  as  he 
approached,  the  whole  twenty 
of  them  rushed  up,  threw 
their  arms  about  his  neck 
and  kissed  him,  exclaiming: 

“‘Oh,  Theodore,  we  are 
so,  so  glad  you  have  come 
back !  W  elcome  home! 

Welcome,  dear  Theodore,  to 
the  bosom  of  your  family !’ 
and  then  the  entire  score  of 
them  fell  upon  his  neck  and 
cried  over  his  shirt  front  and 
mussed  him. 


THE  BISHOP  IS  SURPRISED. 


247 


“  The  bishop  seemed  surprised  and  embarrassed.  Strug¬ 
gling  to  disengage  himself,  he  blushed  and  said : 

“  ‘  Really,  ladies,  this  kind  of  thing  is  well  enough — it  is 
interesting  and  all  that ;  but  there  must  be  some  kind  of  a 
— that  is,  an  awkward  sort  of  a — excuse  me,  ladies,  but 
there  seems  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  slight  misunderstanding 
about  the — I  am  Bishop  Potts.’ 

‘‘‘We  know  it,  we  know  it,  dear,’  they  exclaimed,  in 
chorus,  ‘  and  we  are  glad  to  see  you  safe  at  home.  We  have 
all  been  very  well  while  you  were  away,  love.’ 

“  ‘  It  gratifies  me,’  remarked  the  bishop,  ‘  to  learn  that 
none  of  you  have  been  a  prey  to  disease.  I  am  filled  with 
serenity  when  I  contemplate  the  fact ;  but  really,  I  do  not 
understand  why  you  should  rush  into  this  railway  station 
and  hug  me  because  your  livers  are  active  and  your  digestion 
good.  The  precedent  is  bad ;  it  is  dangerous  !’ 

“‘Oh,  but  we  didn’t!’  they  exclaimed,  in  chorus.  ‘We 
came  here  to  welcome  you  because  you  are  our  husband.’ 

“  ‘  Pardon  me,  but  there  must  be  some  little — that  is  to 
say,  as  it  were,  I  should  think  not.  Women,  you  have  mis¬ 
taken  your  man !’ 

“  ‘  Oh  no !’  they  shouted ;  ‘  we 
were  married  to  you  while  you 
were  away !’ 

“  ‘  What !’  exclaimed  the  bish¬ 
op  ;  ‘  you  don’t  mean  to  say 
•that — ’ 

“  ‘  Yes,  love.  Our  husband, 

William  Brown,  died  on  Monday, 
and  on  Thursday,  Brigham  had 
a  vision  in  which  he  was  directed 
to  seal  us  to  you ;  and  so  he  per¬ 
formed  the  ceremony  at  once  by  proxy.’ 

“  ‘  Th-th-th-th-under !’  observed  the  bishop. 


248 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  ‘  And  we  are  all  living  with  you  now — we  and  the  dear 
children.’ 

“  ‘  Children  !  children !’  exclaimed  Bishop  Potts,  turning 
pale ;  *  you  don’t  mean  to  say  that  there  is  a  pack  of  chil¬ 
dren,  too?’ 

“  ‘  Yes,  love,  but  only  one  hundred  and  twenty-five,  not 
counting  the  eight  twins  and  the  triplet.’ 

“  ‘  Wha-wha-wha-what  d’you  say  ?’  gasped  the  bishop,  in 
a  cold  perspiration;  ‘one  hundred  and  twenty-five!  One 
hundred  and  twenty-five  children  and  twenty  more  wives ! 
It  is  too  much — it  is  awful !’  and  the  bishop  sat  down  and 
groaned,  while  the  late  Mrs.  Brown,  the  bride,  stood  around 
in  a  semicircle  and  fanned  him  with  her  bonnets,  all  except 
the  red-haired  one,  and  she  in  her  trepidation  made  a  futile 
effort  to  fan  him  with  the  coal-scuttle. 

“But  after  a  while  the  bishop  became  reconciled  to  his 
new  alliance,  knowing  well  that  protests  would  be  unavail¬ 
ing,  so  he  walked  home,  holding  several  of  the  little  hands 
of  the  bride,  while  the  red-haired  woman  carried  his  umbrella 


and  marched  in  front  of  the  parade  to  remove  obstructions 
and  to  scare  off  small  boys. 

“  When  the  bishop  reached  .the  house,  he  went  around 
among  the  cradles  which  filled  the  back  parlor  and  the  two 
second-story  rooms,  and  attempted  with  such  earnestness  to 
become  acquainted  with  his  new  sons  and  daughters  that  he 
set  the  whole  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  and  the  twins  to 
crying,  while  his  own  original  fifteen  stood  around  and 
swelled  the  volume  of  sound.  Then  the  bishop  went  out 


THE  SECOND  JOURNEY. 


249 


and  sat  on  the  garden  fence  to  whittle  a  stick 
and  solemnly  think,  while  Mrs.  Potts  distrib¬ 
uted  herself  around  and  soothed  the  children. 

It  occurred  to  the  bishop  while  he  mused,  out 
there  on  the  fence,  that  he  had  not  enough 
trumpets  to  go  around  among  the  children  as  tne  family 
now  stood ;  and  so,  rather  than  seem  to  be  partial,  he  deter- 
mineci  to  go  back  to  San  Francisco  for  one  hundred  and 
forty-four  more. 

“  So  the  bishop  repacked  his  carpet-bag,  and  began  again 
to  bid  farewell  to  his  family.  He  tenderly  kissed  all  of  the 
Mrs.  Potts  who  were  at  home,  and  started  for  the  depot, 
while  Mrs.  Potts  stood  at  the  various  windows  and  waved 
her  handkerchiefs  at  him — all 
except  the  woman  with  the 
warm  hair,  and  she,  in  a  fit 
of  absent-mindedness,  held  one 
of  the  twins  by  the  leg  and 
brandished  it  at  Potts  as  he 

4 

fled  down  the  street  toward  the 
railway  station. 

“  The  bishop  reached  San 
Francisco,  completed  his  pur¬ 
chases,  and  was  just  about  to 
get  on  the  train  with  his  one 
hundred  and  forty-four  trum¬ 
pets,  when  a  telegram  was  handed  him.  It  contained  in¬ 
formation  to  the  effect  that  the  auburn-haired  Mrs.  Potts 
had  just  had  a  daughter.  This  induced  the  bishop  to 
return  to  the  city  for  the  purpose  of  purchasing  an  addi¬ 
tional  trumpet. 

“On  the  following  Saturday  he  returned  home.  As  he 
approached  his  house  a  swarm  of  young  children  flew  out 
of  the  front  gate  and  ran  toward  him,  shouting,  ‘  There’s  pa ! 


250 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Here  comes  pa !  Oh,  pa,  but  we’re  glad  to  see  you !  Hur¬ 
rah  for  pa !’  etc.,  etc. 

“The  bishop  looked  at  the  children  as  they  flocked 
around  him  and  clung  to  his  legs  and  coat,  and  was  aston¬ 
ished  to  perceive  that  they  were  neither  his  nor  the  late 
Brown’s.  He  said,  ‘You  youngsters  have  made  a  mis¬ 
take  ;  I  am  not  your  father ;’  and  the  bishop  smiled  good- 
naturedly. 

“  ‘  Oh  yes,  you  are,  though !’  screamed  the  little  ones,  in 
chorus. 


“  ‘  But  I  say  I  am  not,’  said  the  bishop,  severely,  and 
frowning ;  ‘  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourselves.  Don’t 
you  know  where  little  story-tellers  go?  It  is  scandalous 


ANOTHER  WEDDING. 


251 


for  you  to  violate  the  truth  in  this  manner.  My  name  is 
Potts/ 

“‘Yes,  we  know  it  is/  exclaimed  the  children — ‘we  know 
it  is,  and  so  is  ours ;  that  is  our  name  now,  too,  since  the 
wedding/ 

“‘Since  what  wedding?’  demanded  the  bishop,  turning 
pale. 

“  ‘  Why,  ma’s  wedding,  of  course.  She  was  married  yes¬ 
terday  to  you  by  Mr.  Young,  and  we  are  all  living  at  your 
house  now  with  our  new  little  brothers  and  sisters/ 

“  The  bishop  sat  down  on  the  nearest  front-door  step  and 
wiped  away  a  tear.  Then  he  asked, 

“  ‘  Who  was  your  father  ?’ 

“  ‘  Mr.  Simpson/  said  the  crowd,  ‘  and  he  died  on  Tues¬ 
day/  ' 

“  ‘  And  how  many  of  his  infernal  old  widows — I  mean  how 
many  of  your  mother — are  there  ?’ 

“  ‘Only  twenty-seven/  replied  the  children,  ‘and  there  are 
only  sixty-four  of  us,  and  we  are  awful  glad  you  have  come 
home/ 

“  The  bishop  did  not  seem  to  be  unusually  glad  ;  somehow, 
he  failed  to  share  the  enthusiasm  of  the  occasion.  There  ap¬ 
peared  to  be,  in  a  certain  sense,  too  much  sameness  about 
these  surprises ;  so  he  sat  there  with  his  hat  pulled  over  his 
eyes  and  considered  the  situation.  Finally,  seeing  there  was 
no  help  for  it,  he  went  up  to  the  house,  and  forty-eight  of 
Mrs.  Potts  rushed  up  to  him  and  told  him  how  the  prophet 
had  another  vision,  in  which  he  was  commanded  to  seal 
Simpson’s  widow  to  Potts. 

“  Then  the  bishop  stumbled  around  among  the  cradles  to 
his  writing-desk.  He  felt  among  the  gum  rings  and  rattles 
for  his  letter-paper,  and  then  he  addressed  a  note  to  Brigham, 
asking  him  as  a  personal  favor  to  keep  awake  until  after 
Christmas.  ‘  The  man  must  take  me  for  a  foundling  hospi 


252 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


tal,’  he  said.  Then  the  bishop  saw  clearly  enough  that  if  he 

gave  presents  to  the  other 
children,  and  not  to  the  late 
Simpson’s,  the  bride  would 
make  things  warm  for 
him.  So  he  started  again 
for  San  Francisco  for  sixty- 
four  more  trumpets,  while 
Mrs.  Potts  gradually  took 
leave  of  him  in  the  entry — 
all  but  the  red-haired  wo¬ 
man,  who  was  up  stairs,  and 
who  had  to  be  satisfied  with 
screeching  good-bye  at  the 
top  of  her  voice. 

“  On  his  way  home,  after 
his  last  visit  to  San  Francisco, 
the  bishop  sat  in  the  car  by  the  side  of  a  man  who  had  left 
Salt  Lake  the  day  before.  The  stranger  was  communica¬ 
tive.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation  he  remarked  to  the 
bishop : 

“  ‘  That  was  a  mighty  pretty  little  affair  up  there  at  the 
city  on  Monday.’ 

“  ‘  What  affair  ?’  asked  Potts. 

“ ‘  Why,  that  wedding ;  McGrath’s  widow,  you  know — 
married  by  proxy.’ 

“‘You  don’t  say?’  replied  the  bishop.  ‘I  didn’t  know 
McGrath  was  dead.’ 

“  ‘  Yes ;  died  on  Sunday,  and  that  night  Brigham  had  a 
vision  in  which  he  was  ordered  to  seal  her  to  the  bishop.’ 

“  ‘  Bishop !’  exclaimed  Potts.  ‘  Bishop !  What  bishop  ?’ 

“  ‘  Well,  you  see,  there  were  fifteen  of  Mrs.  McGrath  and 
eighty-two  children,  and  they  shoved  the  whole  lot  off  on  old 
Potts.  Perhaps  you  don’t  know  him  ?’ 


POTTS  FLIES. 


253 


u 


The  bishop  gave  a 
wild  shriek  and  writhed 
upon  the  floor  as  if  he 
had  a  fit.  When  he  re¬ 
covered,  he  leaped  from 
the  train  and  walked 
back  to  San  Francisco. 

He  aftenvard  took  the 
first  steamer  for  Peru, 
where  he  entered  a  mon¬ 
astery  and  became  a  celibate. 

His  carpet-bag  wras  sent  on  to  his  family.  It  contained 
the  balance  of  the  trumpets.  On  Christmas 
morning  they  were  distributed,  and  in  less  than 
an  hour  the  entire  two  hundred  and  eight  chil- 
*§§  dren  were  sick  from  sucking  the  brass  upon 
^  them.  A  doctor  was  called*  and  he  seemed  so 
much  interested  in  the  family  that  Brigham  divorced  the 
whole  concern  from  old  Potts  and 
annexed  it  to  the  doctor,  who 
immediately  lost  his  reason,  and 
would  have  butchered  the  entire 
family  if  the  red-haired  woman 
and  the  oldest  boy  had  not  march¬ 
ed  him  off  to  a  lunatic  asylum, 
where  he  spent  his  time  trying  to 
arrive  at  an  estimate  of  the  num-  ***  ** 
ber  of  his  children  by  ciphering  with  an  impossible  com¬ 
bination  of  the  multiplication  table  and  algebra.” 


“  And  now  that  that’s  over,”  said  Bob,  as  I  folded  up  the 
manuscript,  “  will  you  please  to  tell  me  what  the  suffering 
of  old  Potts  has  to  do  with  my  engagement  ?” 

“Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  nothing  in  particular.  I  thought 
21 


254 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


perhaps  you  might  feel  a  sort  of  general  interest  in  the  mere 
subject  of  matrimony  just  now ;  and  at  any  rate,  I  wanted 
your  opinion  of  the  merit  of  the  story.” 

“Well,  I  think  it  is  a  pretty  poor  story.  The  humor  of 

the  Mormon  business  is  stale, 
anyhow,  and  in  your  hands  it  be¬ 
comes  absolutely  dismal.  I  can 
write  a  better  Mormon  story  than 
that  myself,  and  I  don’t  even 
profess  to  be  a  scribbler.” 

Then  Mr.  Parker  swaggered 
out  with  the  air  of  a  man  whose 
opinions  have  the  weight  of  a  ju¬ 
dicial  decision.  I  think  he  has 
acquired,  since  his  engagement, 
a  much  greater  notion  of  his  im¬ 
portance  than  he  had  before.  It 
is  remarkable  how  a  youth  who 
has  succeeded  in  a  love  affair  immediately  begins  to  cherish 
the  idea  that  his  victory  is  attributable  to  the  fact  that  he 
possesses  particularly  brilliant  qualities  of  some  kind.  Bob 
was  the  humblest  man  in  Delaware  a  week  ago ;  to-day  he 
walks  about  with  such  an  air  as  he  might  have  had  if  he 
had  just  won  the  battle  of  Waterloo. 


CHAPTER  £VI. 

Old  Fort  Kasimir  two  Centuries  Ago — The  Goblins  of  the 
Lane — An  Outrage  upon  Pitman’s  Cow — The  Judge 
Discusses  the  Subject  of  Bitters — How  Cooley  came 
Home— Turning  off  the  Gas — A  Frightful  Accident 
in  the  Argus  Office — The  Terrible  Fate  of  Archibald 
Watson — How  Mr.  Bergner  taught  Sunday-school. 

HEN  the  people  of  our  vil¬ 
lage  are  in  the  mood  to  re¬ 
flect  upon  antiquity,  when 
they  feel  as  if  they  would 
like  to  meditate  upon  the 
heroic  deeds  that  have  been 
achieved  in  this  kindly  old 
place  by  the  mighty  men  of 
valor  who  swaggered  and 
^  l  swore  and  fought  here  a 
hundred  years  before  the 
war  of  the  Revolution  was 
dreamed  of,  they  turn  from 
the  .  street  down  the  gentle 
slope  of  the  highway  which 
runs  by  the  river ;  and  when  they  have  wandered  on  a  brief 
distance  beyond  the  present  confines  of  the  town,  they  reach 
old  Fort  Lane.  It  is  but  a  little  stretch  of  greensward, 
gashed  by  the  wheels  of  vehicles  and  trodden  by  the  feet  of 
wayfarers.  It  extends  from  the  road  eastward  for  a  hundred 
yards,  and  then  it  dips  downward  and  ends  upon  the  sandy 
beach  of  the  stream.  Here,  right  upon  the  edge  of  the  water. 

255 


256 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


once  stood  brave  old  Fort  Kasimir,with  its  gqns  threatening 
destruction  not  only  to  unfriendly  vessels  which  sailed  up 
the  bay,  but  absolutely  menacing  the  very  town  itself.  The 
village  then  was  called  New  Stockholm.  That  was  the  name 
given  to  it  by  the  Swedes,  who  perceived  what  a  superb  site 
for  a  city  lay  here,  and  who  went  to  work  and  built  a  swarm 
of  snug  wooden  houses.  It  has  had  half  a  dozen  other  names 
since.  When  the  Dutchmen  conquered  it,  they  dubbed  it 
Sandhoec,  then  New  Amstel  and  then  Fort  Kasimir.  After¬ 
ward  it  was  known  as  Grape  Wine  Point,  then  as  Delaware- 
town  and  finally  as  New  Castle.  But  twenty  years  after  the 
Swedes  had  settled  here,  the  Dutchmen  at  New  York  coveted 
the  place  and  the  command  of  the  river ;  and  as  an  earnest 
of  what  they  intended  to  do,  they  came  right  here  under  the 
very  noses  of  the  villagers  and  built  Fort  Kasimir. 

I  can  imagine  how  the  old  Swedes  in  the  village  stood 
over  there  on  the  Battery  and  glowered  at  the  Dutchmen  as 
they  labored  upon  the  fort ;  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  conceive 
the  terror  and  dismay  that  filled  those  humble  little  homes 
in  New  Stockholm  when  the  intruder  placed  his  queer  brass 
cannon  in  the  embrasures  of  the  fort  after  its  completion, 
and  when  he  would  hurl  a  ball  across  the  bows  of  a  Swedish 
ship  coming  up  to  the  town,  or  would  send  a  shot  whistling 
over  the  roofs  of  the  village  itself  merely  to  gratify  a  grim 
humor.  I  would  give  a  great  deal,  Mrs.  Adeler,  to  have 
but  one  day  of  that  distant  past  recalled ;  to  see  New  Stock¬ 
holm  and  its  people  as  they  were;  to  watch  the  Dutch  chief¬ 
tain  and  his  handful  of  men  parading  about  in  the  fort  in 
the  panoply  of  war,  and  boasting  of  the  prowess  that  dared 
thus  to  defy  the  enemy  upon  his  own  threshold.  But,  alas ! 
look!  not  one  vestige  of  the  ancient  battlements  remains. 
The  grass  has  grown  over  the  spot  whereon  they  stood,  and 
the  rolling  river  has  long  since  buried  beneath  the  sand  of  its 
shores  whatever  timbers  of  the  structure  touched  its  waters. 


library 
of  tht 
U*iv*»4?ty  of 


GHOSTLY  MANIFESTATIONS. 


259 


It  would  have  been  forgotten,  perhaps,  but  that  Irving,  with 
the  humorous  pen  which  traced  the  history  of  the  Knicker¬ 
bockers,  has  given  it  immortality  in  the  lines  that  tell  how 
the  exasperated  Swedes  seized  the  fort  and  held  the  Dutch¬ 
men  prisoners,  and  how,  when  the  news  came  to  Manhattan 
island,  the  Dutch  sent  forth  a  valiant  army,  which  not  only 
retook  the  fortress,  but  carried  away  nearly  all  the  villagers. 

There  was  wild  lamentation  in  the  little  community  upon 
that  day  as  the  unhappy  people  were  torn  from  their  homes 
and  sent  into  exile ;  and  though  the  historian  tells  his  tale 
sportively,  the  story  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  full  of 
pathos. 

This  place  was  thronged  with  strange  figures,  and  it  wit¬ 
nessed  some  very  sad  scenes  in  that  far-off  time.  And  if  the 
traditions  of  the  neighborhood  may  be  believed,  those  tough 
old  warriors  even  yet  have  not  bid  farewell  for  ever  to  the 
spot.  There  is  no  more  fighting  here,  unless  when  some  of 
the  village  urchins  come  out  to 
have  a  tussle  upon  the  sward, 
and  the  chimneys  of  the  town  are 
unmolested  by  hostile  shot.  But 
they  do  say  that  sometimes  we 
may  look  upon  the  shadowy  out¬ 
line  of  the  ancient  Hollanders 
who  made  this  their  battleground. 

The  venturesome  wight  who  comes 
to  old  Fort  Lane  at  certain  seasons 
after  nightfall  may  see  headless 
Dutchmen  in  strange  and  ghostly 
attire  marching  up  and  down  the  shore,  and  he  may  hear 
the  cry  of  sentinels,  uttered  in  an  unknown  tongue,  borne 
past  him  on  the  wind.  There  are  those  who  have  listened 
to  the  noise  of  cannon  balls  rolling  in  the  dusk  over  floors 
which  no  mortal  eye  can  ever  see,  and  often,  when  there 


260 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


is  a  tempest,  the  booming  of 
guns  will  be  heard  above  the 
roar  of  the  storm,  and  from 
spectral  ships  floating  upon  the 
bosom  of  the  river  will  come 
the  wailing  voices  of  women 
and  children  who  are  still  sor¬ 
rowing  for  their  lost  homes. 

I  do  not  say  that  this  is  so, 
Mrs.  Adeler;  I  merely  assert 
the  existence  of  a  popular  the¬ 
ory  to  that  effect.  I  have  pri¬ 
vate  doubts  if  the  goblin  Dutch¬ 
men  ever  have  been  seen,  and  I 
know  of  no  reason  why,  if  a 
ghost  of  that  kind  really  comes  back  to  earth,  he  should  re¬ 
turn  without  his  head. 

Judge  Pitman  has  a  field  that  is  bounded  upon  one  side 
by  the  lane,  and  in  this  enclosure  we  found,  upon  our  visit 
to  the  historic  spot,  a  med¬ 
itative  cow  with  a  blind- 
board  upon  her  forehead. 

There  was  nothing  especi¬ 
ally  remarkable  about  the 
board,  and  yet  it  has  caused 
a  great  deal  of  trouble. 

In  a  recent  interview  with 
me  the  judge  sought  to 
console  himself  for  the  mis¬ 
ery  created  by  that  blind- 
board  by  relating  the  story 
of  his  sorrow. 

“Adeler,”  he  said,  “you  know  I  j’ined  the  temp’rance 
society  a  couple  o’  months  ago,  not  because  I  was  much 


BROWN'S  BITTERS. 


261 


afeared  of  gittin’  drunk  often,  but  just  to  please  the  old 
woman.  You  know  how  women 
are — kinder  insane  on  the  subject 
of  drinkin’.  Well,  my  cow  had 
a  way  o’  jumpin’  the  fence,  an’  I 
couldn’t  do  nothin’  to  stop  her. 

She  was  the  ornariest  critter  that 
way  that  I  ever  see.  So  at  last  I 
got  a  blind-board  an’  hung  it  on 
her  horns.  That  stopped  her. 

But  you  know  she  used  to  come  jam  up  agin’  the  fence  an’ 
stand  there  for  hours ;  an’  one  day  one  o’  them  vagabone 
advertisin’  agents  come  along — one  o’  them  fellers  that  daubs 
signs  all  over  the  face  of  natur’ — an’  as  soon  as  he  seen  that 
blind-board  he  went  for  it.” 


M, 


“  A  patent  medicine  man,  I  suppose  ?” 

“  No,  he  was  advertisin’  some  kind  o’  stomach  bitters ;  and 


262 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY . 


he  painted  on  that  board  the  follerin’ :  ‘  Take  Brown’s  Bit¬ 
ters  for  your  Stomach’s  Sake.  They  make  the  Best  Cock - 
tails.’  ” 

“  The  temperance  society  didn’t  like  that,  of  course  ?” 

“No,  sir /  The  secretary  happened  to  see  it,  and  he 
brought  out  the  board  of  directors;  and  the  fust  thing  I 
knowed,  they  hauled  me  up  an’  wanted  to  expel  me  for  cir¬ 
culatin’  scand’lous  information  respectin’  bitters  an’  cock¬ 
tails.” 


“  That  was  very  unjust.” 

“Well,  sir,  I  had  the  hardest  time  to  make  them  fellers 
understand  that  I  was  inner  cent,  an’  to  git  ’em  to  let  up  on 
me.  But  they  did.  Then  I  turned  the  blind-board  over ; 
and  now  the  first  man  I  ketch  placin’  any  revolutionary  sen¬ 
timents  on  the  frontispiece  of  that  cow,  why,  down  goes 

his  house ;  I’ll  knock  the  stuffin’ 
out  o’  him ;  now  mind  me  /” 

“  I  am  usually  not  in  favor  of 
resort  to  violence,  judge ;  but  I 
must  say  that  under  the  circum¬ 
stances  even  such  severity  would 
be  perfectly  justifiable.” 

“  This  bitters  business  is  kinder 
fraudulent  anyway,”  continued 
the  judge,  meditatively.  “I  once 
had  a  very  cur’ous  experience  drinkin’  that  stuff.  Last 
winter  I  read  in  one  of  the  papers  an  advertisment  which 
said —  But  hold  on ;  I’ll  read  it  to  you.  I’ve  got  ’em  all*  I 


PITMAN  WARDS  OFF  DISEASE. 


263 


kep’  ’em  as  a  cur’osity.  Let’s 
see ;  where  d’  I  put  them  things? 

Ah !  yes ;  here  they  are and 
the  judge  produced  some  news¬ 
paper  cuttings  from  his  pocket- 
book.  “Well,  sir,  I  read  in 
the  Argus  this  parergraph : 

“  ‘  The  excessive  moisture  and 
the  extreme  cold  and  continuous 
dampness  of  winter  are  peculi¬ 
arly  deleterious  to  the  human 
system,  and  colds,  consumption 
and  death  are  very  apt  to  ensue 
unless  the  body  is  braced  by 
some  stimulating  tonic  such  as 
Blank’s  Bitters,  which  give  tone  to  the  stomach,  purify 
the  blood,  promote  digestion  and  increase  the  appetite. 
The  Bitters  are  purely  medicinal,  and  they  contain  no  in¬ 
toxicating  element.’ 

“  I’d  been  kinder  oneasy  the  winter  afore  about  my  health, 
and  this  skeered  me.  So  I  drank  them  Bitters  all  through 

the  cold  weather ;  an’  when  spring 
come,  I  was  just  about  to  knock 
off  an’  begin  agin  on  water,  when 
I  was  wuss  frightened  than  ever 
to  see  in  the  Argus  the  followin’: 

“  ‘  The  sudden  changes  of  tem¬ 
perature  which  are  characteristic 
of  the  spring,  and  the  enervating 
influence  of  the  increased  heat, 
make  the  season  one  of  peculiar 
danger  to  the  human  system,  so 
that  ague,  fever  and  diseases  re¬ 
sulting  from  impurities  clogging 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  can 
only  be  avoided  by  giving  tone 


264 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


to  the  stomach  and  increasing  the  powers  of  that  organ  by  a 
liberal  use  of  Blank’s  Bitters.’ 


“  I  thought  there  wa’n’t  no  use  takin’  any  risks,  so  I  begun 
agin ;  but  I  made  up  my  mind  to  stop  drinkin’  when  sum¬ 
mer  come  an’  danger  was  over.” 

“Your  confidence  in  those  advertisements,  judge,  was 
something  wonderful.” 

“  Jes  so.  Well,  about  the  fust  of  June,  while  I  was  a-fin- 
ishin’  the  last  bottle  I  had,  I  seen  in  the  Argus  this  one. 
Jes  lissen  to  this : 


“‘The  violent  heat  of  summer  debilitates  and  weakens 
the  human  system  so  completely  that,  more  easily  than  at 
any  other  time,  it  becomes  a  prey  to  the  insidious  diseases 
which  prevail  during  what  may  fairly  be  called  the  sickly 
season.  The  sacrifice  of  human  life  during  this  dangerous 
period  would  be  absolutely  frightful  had  not  Nature  and  Art 
offered  a  sure  preventive  in  Blank’s  Bitters,  which  give  tone 
to  the  stomach,’  etc.,  etc. 


“  This  seemed  like  such  a  solemn  warnin’  that  I  hated  to 
let  it  go ;  an’  so  I  bought  a  dozen  more  bottles  an’  took 

another  turn.  I  begun 
to  think  that  some  mis¬ 
take  ’d  been  made  in 
gittin’  up  a  climate  for 
this  yer  country,  and  it 
d  i  d  seem  astonishin’ 
that  Blank  should  be 
the  only  man  who  knew 
how  to  correct  the  error. 
Howsomdever,  I  determined  to  quit  in  the  fall,  when  the 
sickly  season  was  over,  an’  I  was  jes  gittin’  ready  to  quit 
when  the  Argus  published  another  one  of  them  notices. 
Here  it  is : 


MR.  COOLEY  IS  VICTIMIZED. 


265 


‘“The  miasmatic  vapors  with  which  the  atmosphere  is 
filled  daring  the  fall  of  the  year  break  down  the  human 
system  and  destroy  life  with  a  frightful  celerity  which  is 
characteristic  of  no  other  season,  unless  the  stomach  is 
strengthened  by  constant  use  of  Blank’s  Bitters,  which  are 
a  sure  preventive  of  disease,’  etc.,  etc. 

“  But  they  didn’t  fool  me  that  time.  No,  sir.  I  took  the 
chances  with  those  asthmatic  vapors,  and  let  old  Blank  rip. 
I  j’ined  the  temperance  society,  an’  here  I  am,  hearty  as  a 
buck.” 

“  You  look  extremely  well.” 

“  But,  Adeler,  I  never  bore  no  grudge  agin  the  bitters 
men  for  lyin’  until  they  spread  their  owdacious  falsehoods 
on  the  blind-board  of  my  cow.  Then  it  did  ’pear ’s  if* they 
was  crowdin’  me  too  hard.” 

“Judge,  did  you  ever  try  to  convert  Cooley  to  temperance 
principles  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  he  would  be  a  good  subject 
to  work  upon.” 

“Well,  no;  I  never  said  nothin’  to  him  on  the  subject. 
I’m  not  a  very  good  hand  at  convertin’  people ;  but  I  s’pose 
I  ought  ter  tackle  Cooley  too.  He’s  bin  a-carryin’  on  scan- 
d’lus  lately,  so  I  hear.” 

“  Indeed !  I  hadn’t  heard  of  it.” 

“Yes,  sir;  cornin’  home  o’  nights  with  a  load  on,  an’ 
a-snortin’  at  that  poor  little  wife  of  his’n.  By  gracious,  it’s 
rough,  isn’t  it  ?  An’  Mrs.  Cooley  was  tellin’  my  old  woman 
that  some  of  them  fellers  rubbed  Cooley’s  nose  the  other 
night  with  phosphorous  while  he  was  asleep 
down  at  the  tavern  ;  an’  when  he  went  home, 
it  ’peared ’s  if  he  had  a  locomotive  headlight 
in  front  of  him.” 

“  A  very  extraordinary  proceeding,  judge.” 

“Well,  sir,  when  he  got  in  the  hall  it  was 
dark,  an’  he  ketched  a  sight  o’  that  nose  in  the  lookin'-glass 


266 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


on  the  hat-rack,  an’  he 
thought  Mrs.  Cooley  had 
left  the  gas  burnin’.  Then 
he  tried  to  turn  it  off,  an’ 
after  fumblin’  around  among 
the  umbrellers  an’  hat-pegs 
for  a  while  for  the  stop¬ 
cock,  he  concluded  the  light 
must  come  from  a  candle, 
an’  he  nearly  bu’sted  his 
lungs  tryin’  to  blow  it  out. 
Then  he  grabbed  his  hat  an’ 
tried  to  jam  her  down  over 
that  candle;  an’  when  he 
found  he  couldn’t,  he  got 
mad,  picked  up  an  um- 
breller  an’  hit  a  whack  at  it,  which  broke  the  lookin’-glass 
all  to  flinders ;  an’  there  was  Mrs.  Cooley  a-watchin’  that  old 
lunatick  all  the  time,  an’  afraid  to  tell  him  it  was  his  own 
nose.  I  tell  you,  Adeler, 
this  yer  rum  drink  in’  ’s  a 
fearful  thing  any  way  you 
take  it,  now,  ain’t  it  ?” 

i  am  glad  to  say  that 
the  Argus  has  been  fully 
repaid  for  its  attempts  to 
beguile  the  judge  into  the 
use  of  bitters.  The  Argus  is 
in  complete  disgrace  with 
all  the  people  who  attend 
our  church.  Some  of  the 
admirers  of  Rev.  Dr.  Hop¬ 
kins,  the  clergyman,  gave 


DR.  HOPKINS  IS  OUTRAGED. 


267 


nim  a  gold-headed  cane  a  few  days  ago,  and  a  reporter  of 
the  Argus  was  invited  to  be  present.  Nobody  knows 
whether  the  reporter  was  temporarily  insane,  or  whether 
the  foreman, in  giving  out  the  “copy,”  mixed  it  accidentally 
with  an  account  of  a  patent  hog-killing  machine  which  was 
tried  in  Wilmington  on  that  same  day,  but  the  appalling 
result  was  that  the  Argus  next  morning  contained  this  some¬ 
what  obscure  but  very  dreadful  narrative : 


“  Several  of  Rev.  Dr.  Hopkins’s  friends  called  upon  him 
yesterday,  and  after  a  brief  conversation  the  unsuspicious 
liog  was  seized  by  the  hind  legs  and  slid  along  a  beam  until 
he  reached  the  hot-water  tank.  His  friends  explained  the 
object  of  their  visit,  and  presented  him  with  a  very  hand¬ 
some  gold-headed  butcher,  who  grabbed  him  by  the  tail, 
swung  him  around,  slit  his 
throat  from  ear  to  ear,  and 
in  less  than  a  minute  the 
carcass  was  in  the  water. 

Thereupon  he  came  forward 
and  said  that  there  were 
times  when  the  feelings 
overpowered  one,  and  for 
that  reason  he  would  not 
attempt  to  do  more  than 
thank  those  around  him, 
for  the  manner  in  which 
such  a  huge  animal  was 
cut  into  fragments  was 
simply  astonishing.  The 
doctor  concluded  his  re¬ 
marks,  when  the  machine 
seized  him,  and  in  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  write  it  the 
hog  was  cut  into  fragments  and  worked  up  into  delicious 
sausage.  The  occasion  will  long  be  remembered  by  the  doc¬ 
tor’s  friends  as  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  their  lives.  The 
best  pieces  can  be  procured  for  fifteen  cents  a  pound;  and  we 
are  sure  that  those  who  have  sat  so  long  under  his  ministry 
will  rejoice  that  he  has  been  treated  so  handsomely.” 

22 


268 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


The  Argus  lost  at  least  sixty  subscribers  in  consequence 
of  this  misfortune,  and  on  the  following  Sunday  we  had  a 
very  able  and  very  energetic  sermon  from  Dr.  Hopkins  upon 
“The  Evil  Influence  of  a  Debauched  Public  Press.”  It 
would  have  made  Colonel  Bangs  shiver  to  have  heard  that 
discourse.  Lieutenant  Smiley  came  home  with  us  after 
church,  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  he  exulted  over  the  sturdy 
blows  given  to  the  colonel. 

“  I  haven’t  any  particular  grudge  against  the  man,”  he 
said,  “  but  I  don’t  think  he  has  treated  me  exactly  fair.  I 
sent  him  an  article  last  Tuesday,  and  he  actually  had  the  in¬ 
solence  to  return  me  the  manuscript  without  offering  a  word 
of  explanation.” 

“  To  what  did  the  article  refer  ?” 

“  Why,  it  gave  an  account  of  a  very  singular  thing  that 
happened  to  a  friend  of  mine,  the  son  of  old  Commodore 


Watson.  Once,  when  the  commodore  was  about  to  go  upon 
a  voyage,  he  had  a  presentiment  that  something  would  occur 


ARCHIBALD'S  DOOM. 


269 


to  him,  and  he  made  a  will  leaving  his  son  Archibald  all 
his  property  on  condition  that,  in  case  of  his  death,  Archi¬ 
bald  would  visit  his  tomb  and  pray  at  it  once  every  year. 
Archibald  made  a  solemn  vow  that  he  would,  and  the  com¬ 
modore  started  upon  his  journey.  Well,  sir,  the  fleet  went 
to  the  Fiji  Islands,  and  while  there  the  old  man  came  ashore 
one  day,  and  was  captured  by  the  natives.  They  stripped 
him,  laid  him  upon  a  gridiron,  cooked  him  and  ate  him.” 

“  That  placed  Archibald  in  a  somewhat  peculiar  position  ?” 

“Imagine  his  feelings  when  he  heard  the  news!  How 
could  he  perform  his  vow  ?  How  could  he  pray  at  the  com¬ 
modore’s  tomb?  Would  not  the  tomb,  as  it  were,  be  very 
apt  to  prey  upon  him,  to  snatch  him  up  and  assimilate  him  ? 
There  seemed  to  be  an  imminent  probability  that  it  would 
But  he  went.  That  noble- 
hearted  young  man  went  out 
to  the  islands  in  search  of 
the  savage  that  ate  the  com¬ 
modore,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
that  he  suffered  upon  the 
same  gridiron.”* 

.“You  don’t  mean  to  say 
that  Bangs  declined  to  pub¬ 
lish  that  narrative  ?” 

“  He  did,  and  he  offered 
no  explanation  of  his  re¬ 
fusal.” 

“  He  is  certainly  a  very 
incompetent  person  to  con-  "-w 
duct  a  newspaper.  A  man  who  would  refuse  to  give  such 


*  I  have  reasons  for  believing  that  Smiley  did  not  construct  thia 
story.  I  remember  having  seen  it  in  a  French  newspaper  long  before 
I  met  the  lieutenant,  and  I  am  sure  he  borrowed  it  from  that  or  some 
other  publication. 


270 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


C  HR  Sc 


a  story  to  a  world  which  aches  for  amusement  is  worse  than 
a  blockhead.” 

“  By  the  way,”  said  the  lieutenant,  changing  the  subject 
suddenly,  “  I  hear  Parker  has  taken  a  class  in  the  Sunday- 
school.  He  is  sly — monstrous  sly,  sir.  Miss  Magruder 
teaches  there,  too.  Parker  seems  to  be  determined  to  have 

her,  and  I  hope  he  may  be  suc¬ 
cessful,  but  I  don’t  think  he  will 
be,  I’m  sorry  to  say.” 

It  was  evident  that  Smiley 
had  not  heard  the  news,  and  I 
did  not  enlighten  him. 

“  Some  men  have  a  fitness  for 
that  kind  of  work,  and  some 
haven’t.  There  was  poor  Berg- 
ner,  a  friend  of  mine.  He  took 
a  class  in  a  Sunday-school  at  Carlisle  while  we  were  sta¬ 
tioned  there.  The  first  Sunday  he  told  the 
scholars  a  story  about  a  boy  named  Simms. 

Simms,  he  said,  had  climbed  a  tree  for  the 
purpose  of  stealing  apples,  and  he  fell  and 
killed  himself.  ‘  This,’  said  Bergner, ‘  conveys 
an  impressive  warning  to  the  young.  It 
teaches  an  instructive  lesson  which  I  hope 
will  be  heeded  by  all  you  boys.  Bear  in 
mind  that  if  Simms  had  not  gone  into  that 
tree  he  would  probably  now  be  alive  and 
well,  and  he  might  have  grown  up  to  be  a 
useful  member  of  society.  Remember  this, 
boys,’  said  Bergner,  ‘and  resolve  firmly  now 
that  when  you  wish  to  steal  apples  you  will  do 
so  in  the  only  safe  way,  which  is  to  stand  on 
the  ground  and  knock  them  down  with  a  pole.’  * 

A  healthy  moral  lesson,  wasn’t  it  ?  Somebody  told  the  su- 


PARKER  AS  A  POET. 


271 


perintendent  about  it,  and  they  asked  Berguer  to  resign. 
Yes,  a  man  has  to  have  a  peculiar  turn  for  that  kind  of 
thing  to  succeed  in  teaching  Sunday-school.  I 
don’t  know  how  Parker  will  make  out.” 

Then  the  lieutenant  shook  hands  and  left  in 
order  to  catch  the  last  boat  for  the  fort. 

“Mrs.  Adeler,”  I  said,  as  I  lighted  a  fresh 
cigar,  “  we  may  regard  it  as  a  particularly  for¬ 
tunate  thing  that  Smiley  is  not  entrusted  with  the  religious 
education  of  any  number  of  American  youth.  Place  the 
Sunday-schools  of  this  land  in  the  hands  of  Smiley  and 
others  like  him,  and  in  the  next  generation  the  country 
would  be  overrun  with  a  race  of  liars.” 

I  am  not  aware  that  Bob  Parker  has  ever  made  any  very 
serious  attempt  to  write  poetry  for  the  public.  Of  course 
since  he  has  been  in  love  with  the  bewildering  Magruder  he 
has  sometimes  expressed  his  feelings  in  verse.  But  fortu¬ 
nately  these  breathings  of  passion  were  not  presented  to  a  cold 
and  heartless  world ;  they  were  reserved  for  the  sympathetic 
Magruder,  who  doubtless  read  them  with  delight  and  admira¬ 
tion,  and  locked  them  up  in  her  writing-desk  with  Bob’s  letters 
and  other  precious  souvenirs.  This,  of  course,  is  all  right. 
Every  lover  writes  what  he  considers  poetry,  and  society 
permits  such  manifestations  without  insisting  upon  the  con¬ 
finement  of  the  offenders  in  lunatic  asylums.  Bob,  however, 
has  constructed  some  verses  which  are  not  of  a  sentimental 
kind.  Judge  Pitman’s  story  of  the  illumination  of  Cooley’s 
nose  suggested  the  idea  which  Bob  has  worked  into  rhyme 
and  published  in  the  Argus.  As  the  poet  has  not  been  per¬ 
mitted  to  shine  to  any  great  extent  in  these  pages  as  a 
literary  person,  it  will  perhaps  be  fair  to  reproduce  his 
poem  in  the  chapter  which  contains  the  account  of  Cooley’s 

misfortune.  Here  it  is : 

22* 


272 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Tim  Keyser’s  Nose. 

Tim  Keyser  lived  in  Wilmington; 

He  had  a  monstrous  nose, 

Which  was  a  great  deal  redder  than 
The  very  reddest  rose, 

And  was  completely  capable 
Of  most  terrific  blows. 


He  wandered  down  one  Christmas  day 
To  skate  upon  the  creek, 

And  there,  upon  the  smoothest  ice, 

He  slid  around  so  quick 
That  people  were  amazed  to  see 
Him  do  it  up  so  slick. 


TIM  KEYSER’S  NOSE. 


273 


The  exercise  excited  thirst; 

And  so,  to  get  a  drink, 

He  cut  an  opening  in  the  ice 
And  lay  down  on  the  brink. 

He  said,  “  I’ll  dip  my  lips  right  in 
And  suck  it  up,  I  think.” 


And  while  his  nose  was  thus  immersed 
Six  inches  in  the  stream, 

A  very  hungry  pickerel  was 
Attracted  by  its  gleam ; 

And  darting  up,  he  gave  a  snap, 

And  Keyser  gave  a  scream. 


274 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Tim  Keyser  then  was  well  assured 
He  had  a  splendid  bite. 

To  pull  his  victim  up  he  jerked 
And  tugged  with  all  his  might; 
But  that  disgusting  pickerel  had 
The  better  of  the  fight. 


And  just  as  Mr.  Keyser  thought 
His  nose  was  cut  in  two, 

The  pickerel  gave  its  tail  a  twist 
And  pulled  Tim  Keyser  through, 

And  he  was  scudding  through  the  waves 
The  first  thing  that  he  knew. 


TIM  KEYSETS  NOSE. 


275 


Then  onward  swam  that  savage  fish 
With  swiftness  toward  its  nest, 
Still  chewing  Mr.  Keyser’s  nose; 

While  Mr.  Keyser  guessed 
What  sort  of  policy  would  suit 
His  circumstances  best. 


Just  then  his  nose  was  tickled  with 
A  spear  of  grass  close  by; 

Then  came  an  awful  sneeze,  which  knocked 
‘The  pickerel  into  pi, 

And  blew  its  bones,  the  ice  and  waves 
Two  hundred  feet  on  high ! 


276 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Tim  Keyser  swam  up  to  the  top 
A  breath  of  air  to  take; 

And  finding  broken  ice,  he  hooked 
His  nose  upon  a  cake, 

And  gloried  in  a  nose  which  could 
Such  a  concussion  make. 


Until  he  reached  the  shore; 

And  creeping  out  all  dripping  wet, 
He  very  roundly  swore 
To  use  that  crimson  nose  as  bait 
For  pickerel  no  more. 


TIM  KEYSER’S  NOSE. 


277 


His  Christmas  turkey  on  that  day 
He  tackled  with  a  vim, 

And  thanked  his  stars  as,  shuddering, 
He  thought  upon  his  swim, 

That  that  wild  pickerel  had  not 
Spent  Christmas  eating  him! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


A  Dismal  Sort  of  Day — A  Few  Able  Remarks  about  Um¬ 
brellas —  The  Umbrella  in  a  Humorous  Aspect — The 
Calamity  that  Befel  Colonel  Coombs — An  Ambitious 
but  Miserable  Monarch — Influence  of  Umbrellas  on 
the  Weather — An  Improved  Weather  System — A  Lit¬ 
tle  Nonsense — Judge  Pitman’s  Views  of  Weather  of 
Various  Kinds. 

T  is  difficult  to  imagine  any¬ 
thing  more  dismal  than  a 
rainy  day  at  New  Castle, 
particularly  at  this  late 
period  in  the  year.  The 
river  especially  is  robbed  of 
much  of  its  attractiveness. 
The  falling  drops  obscure  the 
view,  so  that  the  other  shore 
is  not  visible  through  the 
gray  curtain  of  mist,  and 
the  few  vessels  that  can  be 
seen  out  in  the  channel 
struggling  upward  with  the 
tide  or  beating  slowly  down¬ 
ward  to  the  bay  look  so 
drenched  and  cold  and  utterly  forlorn  that  one  shivers  as  he 
watches  them,  with  their  black  sails  and  their  dripping  cord¬ 
age,  and  sees  the  moist  sailors  in  tarpaulins  and  sea-boots  hur¬ 
rying  over  the  slippery  decks.  The  grain  schooner  lying  at 
the  wharf  has  all  her  hatches  down,  and  there  is  about  her 
no  other  sign  of  life  than  one  soaked  vagabond,  who  sits 
278 


A  VERY  MOIST  TIME . 


279 


npon  the  bowsprit  angling  in  a  most  melancholy  fashion  for 
fish  which  will  not  bite.  He  may  be  seeking  for  his  supper, 
poor,  damp  sinner !  or  he  may  be  an  infatuated  being  who 
deceives  himself  with  the  notion  that  he  is  having  sport. 
There  is  a  peculiar  feeling  of  comfort  on  such  a  day  to 
stand  in  a  room  where  a  bright  fire  blazes  in  the  grate,  and 
from  the  window  to  watch  this  solitary  fisherman  as  the  fit¬ 
ful  gusts  now  and  then  blow 
the  rain  down  upon  his  head  in 
sheets,  and  to  observe  the  few 
people  who  remain  upon  the 
streets  hurrying  by  under  their 
umbrellas,  each  anxious  to  reach 
a  place  of  shelter.  The  water 
pours  in  yellow  torrents  through 
the  gutter-ways,  the  carriages 
which  go  swiftly  past  have  their 
leathern  aprons  drawn  high  up  in 
front  of  the  drivers,  the  stripped 
branches  of  the  trees  are  black 
with  moisture,  and  from  each 
twig  the  drops  trickle  to  the  earth ;  the  water-spout  upon  the 
side  of  the  house  continues  its  monotonous  song  all  day  long, 
drip,  drip,  drip,  until  the  very  sound  contributes  to  the  gloom¬ 
iness  of  the  time ;  there  is  desolation  in  the  yard  and  in  the 
garden,  where  a  few  yellow  corn-stalks  and  headless  trunks 
of  cabbage  remain  from  the  summer’s  harvest  to  face  the 
wintry  storms,  and  where  the  chickens  gath¬ 
ered  under  the  woodshed  are  standing  with 
ruffled  feathers,  hungry,  damp  and  miserable, 
some  on  one  leg  and  some  on  two,  and  with  an 
expression  upon  their  faces  that  tells  plainly 
the  story  of  their  dejection  at  the  poor  prospect  of  having 

any  dinner. 

23 


280 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY 


It  is  a  good  time,  Mrs.  Adeler,  to  offer  a  few  remarks 
upon  that  subject  of  perennial  interest,  the  weather,  and 
especially  to  refer  to  some  facts  in  reference  to  that  useful 
but  uncertain  implement,  the  umbrella.  I  do  not  know  why 
it  is  so,  but  by  common  agreement  the  umbrella  has  been 
permitted  to  assume  a  comic  aspect.  No  man,  particularly 
no  journalist,  can  be  considered  as  having  wholly  discharged 
his  duty  to  his  fellow-creatures  unless  he  has  permitted  him¬ 
self  to  make  some  jocular  remarks  concerning  the  exception 
of  umbrellas  from  the  laws  which  govern  other  kinds  of 
property.  The  amount  of  facetiousness  that  has  attended 
the  presentation  of  that  theory  is  already  incalculably  great, 
and  there  is  no  reason  for  believing  that  it  will  not  be  in¬ 
creased  to  an  infinite  extent  throughout  the  coming  ages. 
It  is  perhaps  a  feeble  idea  upon  which  to  erect  so  vast  a 
structure ;  but  if  it  makes  even  a  dismal  sort  of  merriment, 
we  should  not  complain.  And  then  reflect  with 
what  humorous  effect  the  comic  artists  intro¬ 
duce  the  excessive  and  corpulent  umbrella  to 
their  pictures  of  nervous  or  emphatic  old  ladies, 
and  how  much  more  convulsive  the  laughter  be¬ 
comes  at  the  theatre  when  the  low-comedy  man 
carries  with  him  an  umbrella  of  that  unwieldy 
description  !  It  is  universally  admitted  that  an 
umbrella  with  distended  sides  is  funny ;  and  if 
general  consent  is  given  to  such  a  proposition, 
the  consequences  are  quite  as  satisfactory  as  if 
the  article  in  question  was  really  plethoric  with 
humor. 

There  are  occasions  when  the  simple  elevation 
of  an  umbrella  is  grotesquely  absurd,  as  when  a 
group  of  British  guardsmen  sheltered  themselves 
in  this  fashion  from  the  rain  during  a  certain 
battle,  to  the  infinite  disgust  of  Wellington,  who  ordered  the 


COLONEL  COMBS’S  EXPERIMENT. 


281 


tender  warriors  to  put  their 
umbrellas  down  lest  the  ser¬ 
vice  should  be  made  ridicu¬ 
lous.  It  was  a  Frenchman, 
Emile  Girardin,  I  think,  who 
brought  an  umbrella  with  him 
to  the  dueling-ground,  and  in¬ 
sisted  upon  holding  it  over  his 
head  during  the  combat.  “  I 


do  not  mind  being  killed,”  he 

said,  “  but  I  object  decidedly  to  getting  wet.”  They  gave 
him  much  credit  for  admirable  coolness ;  but  I  cherish  a 
private  opinion  that  he  was  scared,  and  hoped,  by  making  the 
affair  ridiculous,  to  bring  it  to  a  conclusion  without  burning 
powder ;  and  he  succeeded,  for  the  combatants  shook  hands 
and  went  away  friends. 

And  there  was  the  case  of  Colonel  Coombs — Coombs  of 
Colorado.  He  had  heard  that  the  most  ferocious  wild  beast 
could  be  frightened  and  put  to  flight  if  an  umbrella  should 
suddenly  be  opened  in  its  face,  and  he  determined  to  test 
the  matter  at  the  earliest  opportunity.  One  day,  while 
walking  in  the  woods,  Coombs  perceived  a  panther  crouch¬ 
ing,  preparatory  to  making  a  spring  at  him.  Coombs  held 
his  umbrella  firmly  in  his  hand,  and  presenting  it  at  the 
panther,  unfurled  it.  The  result  was  not  wholly  satisfac¬ 


tory,  for  the  next  mo¬ 
ment  the  animal  leaped 
upon  the  umbrella, 
flattened  it  out  and 
began  to  lunch  upon 
Coombs.  Not  only  did 
the  beast  eat  that  anx- 
i  o  u  s  inqu  i  rer  after 
truth,  but  it  swallowed 


282 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


the  hooked  handle  of  the  umbrella,  which  was  held  tightly 
in  Coombs’s  grasp,  and  for  two  or  three  weeks  it  wandered 
about  with  its  nose  buried  among  the  ribs  of 
the  umbrella.  It  was  very  handy  when  there 
was  rain,  but  it  obstructed  the  animal’s  vision, 
and  consequently  it  walked  into  town  and  was 
killed. 

In  some  countries  the  umbrella  is  the  symbol  of  dignity 
and  power.  One  of  the  magnates  of  Siam  is  proud  to 
begin  his  list  of  titles  with  “Lord  of  Thirty-seven  Um¬ 
brellas.”  Conceive,  if  you  can,  the  envy  and  hatred  with 
which  that  bloated  aristocrat  must  be  regarded  by  a  man 
who  is  lord  of  only  fifteen  umbrellas!  Among  certain 
African  tribes  the  grandeur  of  the  individual  increases  with 
the  size,  and  not  with  the  number,  of  the  umbrellas.  Did  I 
ever  tell  you  the  story  of  the  African  chieftain  who  deter¬ 
mined  to  surpass  all  his  rivals  in  this  respect? 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  procure  the  largest  umbrella  in 
the  world,  and  he  induced  a  trader  to  send  his  order  to  Lon¬ 
don  for  the  article.  Its  ribs  were  forty  feet  in  length,  and 
its  handle  was  like 
a  telegraph  pole. 

When  it  was  dis¬ 
tended,  the  effect 
was  sublime.  The 
machine  resembled 
a  green  gingham 
circus  tent,  and  it 
was  crowned  with  a 
ferule  as  large  as  a 
barrel.  When  the  umbrella  arrived,  there  was  great  re¬ 
joicing  in  the  domestic  circle  of  that  dusky  sovereign,  and 
so  impatient  was  the  owner  to  test  its  qualities  that  he  fairly 
yearned  for  the  arrival  of  a  rainy  day.  At  last,  one  morn- 


MORE  DISAPPOINTMENT \ 


283 


ing,  he  awoke  to  find  that  his  opportunity  had  come.  The 
rain  was  pouring  in  torrents.  Exultingly  he  called  forth  his 
vassals,  and  the  work  of  opening  the  umbrella  began  in  the 
presence  of  an  awestricken  multitude.  Two  entire  days 

were  consumed  by  the  effort  to 
elevate  the  monster,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  second  day,  as  the 
task  was  done,  the  storm  ceased, 
and  there  was  a  general  clearing 
up.  The  disappointed  chieftain 
waited  a  day  or  two  in  vain  for 
another  shower,  and  finally,  sick 
at  heart,  he  commanded  the 
umbrella  to  be  closed.  The 
work  occupied  precisely  forty-eight  hours,  and  just  as  the 
catch  snapped  upon  the  handle  a  thunder-gust  came  up,  and 
it  rained  furiously  all  day.  The  frenzied  monarch  then  con¬ 
sulted  with  his  medicine  man,  and  was  assured  that  there 
would  certainly  be  rain  on  the  following  Wednesday.  The 
king  therefore  ordered  the  ging¬ 
ham  giant  up  again.  While  the 
swarthy  myrmidons  were  strug¬ 
gling  with  it  there  were  at  least 
sixty  or  seventy  violent  showers, 
but  just  as  it  was  fairly  open 
the  clouds  drifted  away,  and  the 
sun  came  out  with  terrific  force. 

And  it  remained  out.  There  was 
not  a  drop  of  rain  or  so  much  as 
a  fragment  of  cloud  in  the  sky 
for  two  hundred  and  seventy- 
three  days,  and  the  umbrella  re¬ 
mained  open  during  all  the  time, 

while  the  potentate  who  owned  it  went  dancing  about  daily 

23* 


284 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


in  an  ecstasy  of  rage.  At  the  end  of  the  period  he  sought 
the  medicine  man  and  slew  him  upon  the  spot.  Then  he 
ordered  the  umbrella  down.  The  very  next  morning  after 
it  was  closed  the  rain  began,  and  it  has  been  raining  ever  since. 

Mrs.  Adeler,  that  unfortunate  savage  thus  became  inti¬ 
mately  familiar  with  one  of  the  most  striking  of  meteoro¬ 
logical  phenomena. 

The  influence  of  the  umbrella  upon  the  weather  is  a  sub¬ 
ject  that  has  engaged  the  attention  of  millions  of  mankind. 
The  precise  laws  by  which  that  influence  is  exerted  and 
governed  have  not  yet  been  defined,  but  the  fact  of  the  ex¬ 
istence  of  the  influence  is  universally  recognized.  If  there 
seems  to  be  a  promise  of  rain  in  the  morning  when  I  leave 
home,  and  I  carry  my  umbrella  with  me,  the  sky  clears  be¬ 
fore  noon ;  but  if  I  neglect  to  take  my  umbrella,  I  will  cer¬ 
tainly  be  drenched.  If  I  carry  an  umbrella  forty  days  in 
order  to  be  prepared  in  case  of  sudden  showers,  there  will  be 
perfect  dryness  during  that  period ;  but  if  I  forget  the  um¬ 
brella  on  the  forty-first  day,  the  floodgates  of  heaven  will 
assuredly  be  opened.  Sometimes  the  conduct  of  the  elements 
is  peculiarly  aggravating.  When  I  have  been  caught  in 
town  by  a  rain-storm  and  I  had  no  umbrella,  I  have  some¬ 
times  darted  through  the  shower  to  a  store  to  purchase  one, 
but  always,  just  as  the  man  has  given  me  the  change,  the 
rain  has  stopped.  And  when  I  have  kept  one  umbrella  at 
the  house  and  another  at  the  office,  in  order  to  be  prepared 
at  both  ends  of  the  line,  all  the  storms  have  begun  and  ex¬ 
pended  their  fury  while  I  was  passing  between  the  two 
points. 

This  experience  is  not  peculiar.  It  is  that  of  every  man 
who  uses  an  umbrella.  I  am  persuaded,  Mrs.  Adeler,  that 
the  time  will  come  when  science,  having  detected  the  cha¬ 
racter  of  the  mysterious  sympathy  existing  between  um¬ 
brellas  and  the  weather,  will  be  able  to  give  to  a  suffering 


THE  IMPROVED  WEATHER  SYSTEM. 


285 


world  sunshine  or  rain  as  we  want  it.  Whether  we  shall 
then  be  any  better  off  is  another  matter. 

In  the  mean  time,  while  we  are  waiting  for  science  to  pen¬ 
etrate  the  hidden  secrets  of  the  umbrella,  let  me  unfold  to 
you  a  plan  which  I  have  devised  for  the  better  management 
of  the  weather  bureau  at  Washington.  I  confided  the 
scheme,  once  upon  a  time,  to  Old  Probabilities  himself, 
through  the  medium  of  a  newspaper  at  the  capital,  but  he 
did  not  deign  to  express  an  opinion  concerning  it.  Perhaps 
it  contained  too  much  levity  to  entitle  it  to  the  consideration 
of  a  man  who  meditates  upon  the  thunder  and  tries  to  trace 
the  pathway  of  the  cyclone.  I  have  called  it 

The  Improved  Weather  System. 

The  Probability  man  who  meddles  with  our  great  Amer¬ 
ican  weather  means  well,  and  tries  conscientiously  to  do  his 
best,  but  his  system  is  radically  defective,  and  the  conse¬ 
quence  is  that  his  conjectures  are  despicably  incorrect  quite 
half  the  time.  The  inconvenience  caused  by  these  mistakes, 
not  only  to  the  people  generally,  but  to  me  personally,  is  in¬ 
conceivably  great,  and  it  is  not  to  be  endured  any  longer. 

For  instance,  if  I  read  in  the  morning  that  this  Probability 
person  entertains  a  conviction  that  we  shall  have  a  clear  day 
in  my  neighborhood,  I  place  confidence  in  his  assurance.  I 
remove  the  roof  from  my  house  in  order  to  dry  the  garret 
thoroughly,  and  I  walk  down  town  with  a  new  umbrella 
under  my  arm.  Now,  it  is  plainly  evident  that  if,  after  all, 
it  does  begin  to  rain,  and  I  am  obliged  to  unfurl  that  um¬ 
brella  and  ruin  it  with  the  wet,  and  I  am  compelled,  when  I 
arrive  at  home,  to  witness  my  family  floating  around  in  the 
dining-room  upon  a  raft  constructed  out  of  the  clothes-horse 
and  a  few  bed-slats  and  pie-boards,  the  government  for  which 
Washington  died  is  a  failure. 

Or  suppose  that  our  friend  at  the  weather  office  asserts 


286 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


that  a  thunder-storm  is  certain  to  strike  my  section  of  the 
country  upon  a  given  day.  I  believe  him.  I  bring  out  my 
lightning-rods  and  buckle  them  to  the  chimneys  and  set  them 
around  on  the  roof  and  plant  them  out  in  the  yard  and  rivet 
them  upon  my  hired  girl ;  and  I  place  my  family  safely  in 
feather  beds  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  drink  all  the 
milk  in  the  neighborhood,  and  prevail  upon  the  tax  collector 
to  go  and  stand  an  hour  or  two  under  a  tree  where  he  will 
be  almost  certain  to  be  struck  by  lightning.  And  when  all 
these  arrangements  are  completed,  so  that  I  feel  equal  to  the 
promised  emergency,  suppose  that  thunder-storm  does  not 
come  ?  When  I  watch  that  tax  collector  sally  out  and  begin 
to  assess  my  property,  counting  in  all  those  lightning-rods  at 
double  their  cost,  is  there  any  reason  to  wonder  that  I  sit 
down  and  sigh  for  some  responsible  despot  who  will  give  us 
a  Probability  man  who  grasps  the  subject  of  the  weather,  as 
it  were,  in  a  more  comprehensive  manner  ? 

But  I  lost  all  faith  in  him  after  his  ill-treatment  of  Cooley. 
He  said  that  a  cyclone  would  sweep  over  this  district  upon 

a  certain  morning,  and  Cooley 
was  so  much  alarmed  at  the 
prospect  that  he  made  elaborate 
preparations  to  receive  the  storm. 
He  arose  before  daybreak  and 
went  into  the  middle  of  his  gar¬ 
den,  where  he  filled  his  pockets 
with  pig  lead,  fettered  himself  to 
the  apple  tree  and  fixed  the  pre¬ 
serving  kettle  securely  upon  his 
head  with  a  dog  chain  in  order 
to  preserve  his  hair.  Cooley 
stayed  there  until  five  o’clock  in 
the  afternoon  waiting  for  the 
simoom  to  swoop  down  upon  him. 


TFE  BASIS  OF  THE  SYSTEM. 


287 


But  it  was  a  failure — a  disgraceful  failure.  And  when 
Cooley  looked  out  from  under  the  kettle  in  the  afternoon,  he 
was  surprised  to  observe  that  the  fence  was  filled  with  men 
and  boys  who  were  watching  him  with  intense  interest. 
Then  the  boys  began  to  whistle  upon  their  fingers  and  to 
make  unpleasant  remarks,  and  finally  Cooley  was  obliged  to 
cut  loose  and  go  into  the  house  to  avoid  arrest  by  a  police¬ 
man  upon  a  charge  of  lunacy. 

Now,  this  is  all  wrong.  The  feelings  of  American  citizens 
ought  not  to  be  trifled  with  in  such  a  manner,  and  I  propose 
to  arrange  a  plan  by  which  meteorological  facts  and  condi¬ 
tions  can  be  observed  with  something  like  certainty. 

The  basis  of  my  system  is  Corns.  The  marvelous  accu¬ 
racy  with  which  changes  in  the  weather  can  be  foretold  by 
a  man  whose  feet  are  decorated  with  those  excrescences  is  so 
well  known  that  it  is  hardly  worth  while  to  consider  at 
length,  at  this  particular  crisis,  the  human  corn  in  its 
meteorological  characteristics.  It  is  quite  certain,  however, 
that  it  will  be  impossible  to  expect  the  Probability  being  to 
walk  around  the  country  once  or  twice  every  day  for  the 
purpose  of  submitting  his  corns  to  the  diverse  atmospheric 
influences  which  exist  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific 
Oceans.  It  would  wear  out  any  man.  It  will  be  better, 
therefore,  to  have  him  kept  stationary.  I  propose,  in  that 
event,  that  he  should  buy  up  any  available  corn  that  is  in 
the  market  in  any  given  State,  and  have  it  transplanted  and 
grafted  upon  his  own  toe.  Doubtless  there  are  patriotic 
citizens  in  every  portion  of  the  land  who  would  be  willing  to 
lay  upon  the  altar  of  their  beloved  country  their  most  cher¬ 
ished  corns. 

The  Probability  official  then  might  obtain,  let  us  assume, 
one  corn  from  each  State  and  a  reliable  bunion  to  represent 
each  Territory.  When  these  were  engrafted  upon  his  feet  in 
a  healthful  condition,  each  one  would,  as  a  matter  of  course. 


288 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


be  peculiarly  susceptible  to  the  atmospheric  influences  which 
prevail  in  its  native  clime.  All  we  have  to  do,  then,  is  to 
compel  the  weather  man  to  wear  exceptionally  tight  boots 
while  he  is  not  attending  to  business,  so  that  his  barometers 
will  acquire  the  requisite  amount  of  sensibility.  Then  I 
should  have  pipes  laid  from  each  State  to  the  office  in  Wash¬ 
ington  for  the  purpose  of  conveying  the  different  varieties  of 
atmosphere  to  the  foot  of  the  Probability  person.  Suppose, 
then,  he  desired  to  make  a  guess  in  regard  to  the  weather  in 
Louisiana.  I  should  have  a  man  stationed  at  the  end  of  the 
pipe  in  New  Orleans  with  a  steam  fan,  and  he  could  waft 
zephyrs,  as  it  were,  upon  the  Louisiana  corn,  which  would 
respond  instantly,  and  we  should  have  the  facts  about  the 
weather  in  that  State  with  precision  and  accuracy.  When 
we  admitted  a  new  State,  our  friend  could  weld  on  a  new 
corn ;  or  if  the  Mormons  succeeded  in  procuring  the  admis¬ 
sion  of  their  Territory  as  a  State,  we  could  plough  up  the 
Utah  bunion  and  plant  a  corn,  so  as  to  preserve  the  pro¬ 
prieties. 

Of  course  this  system  of  excrescences  would  be  of  no  value 
as  an  indicator  of  the  movements  of  thunder-storms  and  hur¬ 
ricanes.  But  in  order  to  acquire  information  concerning  the 
former,  how  would  it  do  to  build  up  stacks  of  lightning-rods 
in  every  portion  of  every  State,  and  to  connect  each  State 
group,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  with  a  wire  which 
shall  be  permanently  fastened  to  the  arm  or  leg  of  the  Prob¬ 
ability  man  in  Washington  ?  Because,  in  such  a  case,  when¬ 
ever  a  thunder-gust  appeared  in  any  portion  of  the  country, 
some  one  out  of  all  those  bunches  of  lightning-rods  would 
certainly  be  struck,  and  our  conjectural  friend  at  the 
weather  office  would  be  likely  to  know  about  it  right 
soon. 

As  for  hurricanes,  I  am  in  favor  of  putting  an  end  to 
them  at  once,  instead  of  telegraphing  around  the  country  to 


A  LITTLE  NONSENSE. 


289 


warn  people  to  look  out  for  them.  When  I  reorganize  the 
weather  service,  I  shall  have  men  stationed  everywhere  with 
machines  fixed  up  like  the  wind  sails  that  are  used  on  ship¬ 
board  for  sending  air  into  the  hold.  I  should  make  the 
mouth  of  each  one  a  mile  wide,  construct  it  of  stout  canvas, 
and  run  the  lower  end  into  a  coal-mine,  or  a  mammoth  cave, 
or  a  volcano.  Then,  when  a  tornado  approached,  I  should 
place  a  man  at  each  side  of  the  sail,  put  the  men  into  bal¬ 
loons,  send  them  up,  and  spread  the  sail  directly  across  the 
route  of  the  approaching  cyclone.  When  it  arrived,  it  would 
strike  the  sail,  of  course ;  there  would  be  a  momentary  flap¬ 
ping  and  jerking  around,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  I  should 
have  that  hurricane  comfortably  packed  away  in  the  vol¬ 
cano,  suppose  we  say.  A  man  would  then  be  upon  the  spot, 
of  course,  to  drive  a  plug  into  the  crater,  so  as  to  make 
everything  tight  and  snug,  and  one  more  nuisance  is  taken 
off  the  face  of  the  earth. 

“Is  that  the  whole  of  the  article?”  inquired  Mrs.  Adeler. 

“Yes,  that  is  all  of  it.” 

“  Well,  I  am  not  surprised  that  no  notice  was  taken  of  it. 
It  is  perfectly  nonsensical.” 

“  I  admit  the  fact,  but  still  I  shall  not  smother  the  article. 
It  will  not  do  to  take  all  the  nonsense  out  of  the  world. 
While  thousands  of  learned  fools  are  hard  at  work  trying  to 
stupefy  mankind,  we  must  be  permitted  sometimes  to  in¬ 
dulge  in  absurdities  of  a  less  weighty  kind  in  order  to  coun¬ 
teract  them.” 

And  while  we  are  discussing  the  weather,  let  me  not  forget 
to  allude  to  the  most  remarkable  of  Judge  Pitman’s  pecu¬ 
liarities.  He  is  the  only  man  in  the  world  of  whom  I  know 
anything  who  is  always  satisfied  with  the  weather.  No  mat¬ 
ter  what  the  condition  of  the  atmosphere,  be  is  contented 
and  happy,  and  willing  to  affirm  that  the  state  of  things  at 


290 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


any  given  moment  is  the  very  best  that  could  have  been 
devised. 

In  summer,  when  the  mercury  bolted  up  among  the  nine¬ 
ties,  the  judge  would  come  to  the  front  door  with  beads  of 
perspiration  standing  out  all  over  his  red  face,  and  would 
look  at  the  sky  and  say,  “Splendid!  perfectly  splendid! 
Noble  weather  for  the  poor  and  for  the  ice  companies  and 
the  washerwomen !  I  never  saw  sich  magnificent  weather 
for  dryin’  clothes.  They  don’t  shake  up  any  such  climate 

as  this  in  Italy.  Gimme  me  my 
umbreller,  Harriet,  while  I  sit 
out  yer  on  the  steps  and  enjoy 
it.” 

In  winter,  when  the  mercury 
would  creep  down  fifteen  degrees 
below  zero,  and  the  cold  was 
nearly  severe  enough  to  freeze 
the  inside  of  Vesuvius  solid  to 
the  centre  of  the  globe,  Pitman 
would  sit  out  on  my  fence  and  exclaim,  “By  gracious, 
Adeler!  did  you  ever  see  sich  weather  as  this?  I  like  an 
atmosphere  that  freezes  up  yer  very  marrer.  It  helps  the 
coal  trade  an’  gives  us  good  skeetin’.  Don’t  talk  of  sum¬ 
mer-time  to  me.  Gimme  cold,  and  give  it  to  me  stiff.” 

When  there  was  a  drought,  Pitman  used  to  meet  me  in 
the  street  and  remark,  “No  rain  yet,  I  see!  Magnificent, 
isn’t  it  ?  I  want  my  weather  dry,  I  want  it  with  the  damp¬ 
ness  left  out.  Moisture  breeds  fevers  and  ague,  an’  ruins 
yer  boots.  If  there’s  anything  I  despise,  it’s  to  carry  an  um¬ 
breller.  No  rain  for  me,  if  you  please.” 

When  it  rained  for  a  week  and  flooded  the  country,  the 
judge  often  dropped  in  to  see  me  and  to  observe,  “  I  dunno 
how  you  feel  about  this  yer  rain,  Adeler,  but  it  allers  seems 
to  me  that  the  heavens  never  drop  no  blessin’s  but  when  we 


A  FORTUNATE  ACCIDENT. 


291 


have  a  long  wet  spell.  It  makes  the  corn  jump  an’  cleans 
the  sewers  an’  keeps  the  springs  from  gittin’  too  dry.  I 
wouldn’t  give  a  cent  to  live  in  a  climate  where  there  was  no 
rain.  Put  me  on  the  Nile,  an’  I’d  die  in  a  week.  Soak  me 
through  an’  through  to  the  inside  of  my  bones,  and  I  feel 
as  if  life  was  bright  and  beautiful,  an’  sorrer  of  no 
account.” 

On  a  showery  day,  when  the  sun  shone  brightly  at  one 
moment  and  at  the  next  the  rain  poured  in  torrents,  the 
judge  has  been  known  to  stand  at  the  window  and  exclaim, 
“  Harriet,  if  you’d ’ve  asked  me  how  I  liked  the  weather,  I’d 
’ve  said,  just  as  it  is  now.  What  I  want  is  weather  that  is 
streaked  like  a  piece  of  fat  an’  lean  bacon — a  little  shine  an’ 
a  little  rain.  Mix  ’em  up  an’  give  us  plenty  of  both,  an’ 
I’m  yer  man.” 

The  judge  is  always  happy  in  a  thunder-storm,  and  one 
day,  after  the  lightning  had  knocked  down  two  of  his  best 
apple  trees  and  splintered  them  into  fragments,  and  the  wind 
had  torn  his  chimney  to  pieces, 

I  went  over  to  see  him.  He  was 
standing  by  the  prostrate  trees, 
and  he  at  once  remarked,  “  Did 
you  ever  know  of  a  man  havin’ 
sich  luck  as  this?  I  was  goin’ 
to  chop  dowrn  them  two  trees  to- 
morrer,  an’  as  that  chimney 
*  never  draw’d  well,  I  had  con¬ 
cluded  to  have  it  rebuilt.  An’ 
that  gorgeous  old  storm  has  fixed 
things  just  the  way  I  want  ’em. 

Put  me  in  a  thunder-storm  an’ 
let  the  lightnin’  play  around  me,  an’  I’m  at  home.  I’d 
rather  have  one  storm  that ’d  tear  the  bowels  out  of  the 

American  continent  than  a  dozen  of  yer  little  dribblin’ 
24 


/ 


292  OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 

waterin’-pot  showers.  If  I  can’t  have  a  rippin’  and  roarin’ 
storm,  I  don’t  want  none.” 

They  say  here  in  the  village,  but  I  do  not  believe  it,  that 
one  day  the  judge  was  upon  his  roof  fixing  a  shingle,  when  a 
tornado  struck  him,  lifted  him  off,  carried  him  a  quarter  of 
a  mile,  and  dashed  him  with  such  terrible  force  against  a 
fence  that  his  leg  was  broken.  As  they  carried  him  home, 
he  opened  his  eyes  languidly  and  said,  “  Immortal  Moses ! 
what  a  storm  that  was !  When  it  does  blow,  it  suits  me  if 
it  blows  hard.  I’d  give  both  legs  if  we  could  have  a  squall 
like  that  every  day.  I — I — ”  Then  he  fainted. 

If  contentment  is  happiness,  then  the  life  of  Pitman  is  one 
uninterrupted  condition  of  bliss. 


4 


CHAPTER  X VIII. 


Trouble  for  the  Hero  and  Heroine — A  Broken  Engage¬ 
ment  and  a  Forlorn  Damsel — Bob  Parker’s  Suffering 
— A  Formidable  Encounter — The  Peculiar  Conduct  of 
a  Dumb  Animal— Cooley’s  Boy  and  his  Home  Discipline 
— A  Story  of  an  Echo. 

E  had  been  talking  of  asking 
the  Magruders  to  come  to 
take  tea  with  us,  so  that  the 
two  families,  which  were  now 
to  be  brought  into  close  re¬ 
lations,  might  become  better 
acquainted.  But  one  even¬ 
ing,  just  as  I  had  settled 
myself  for  a  comfortable 
perusal  of  the  paper,  Miss 
Magruder  was  ushered  into 
the  room  by  the  servant.  It 
was  plainly  evident  from  her 
appearance  that  she  was  in 
distress  from  some  cause. 
We  should  have  guessed  from  her  visit  at  such  an  hour  un¬ 
accompanied  by  any  one  that  all  was  not  right,  even  if  her 
countenance  had  not  manifested  extreme  agitation.  After 
the  usual  salutation  she  asked, 

“  Is  Mr.  Parker  not  at  home  ?” 

“  He  has  not  yet  returned  from  the  city,”  I  said.  “  I  sup¬ 
pose  he  has  been  detained  for  some  reason.  It  is  probable 
that  he  will  be  here  presently.” 

“I  wanted  to  see  him,”  she  said,  hesitatingly.  “I  am 
afraid  you’ll  think  it  very  queer  for  me  to  come  here  at  such 

293 


<u  c/dt 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


a  strange  time ;  but — but  ” — and  here  her  voice  quavered  a 
little — “  but  oh,  something  dreadful  has  happened — some¬ 
thing  very,  very  dreadful.” 

Then  the  tears  began  to  come  into  her  pretty  brown  eyes, 
and  the  little  maid,  after  striving  desperately  to  restrain 
them  and  to  retain  her  composure,  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  and  began  to  sob.  There  was  a  woman  by  her  side 
in  a  moment  to  comfort  her  and  to  seek  her  confidence ;  but 
it  was  very  awkward  for  me.  I  was  not  quite  certain 
whether  I  ought  not  to  fly  from  the  room  and  permit  the 
two  to  be  alone..  But  I  remained  with  mingled  feelings  of 
sympathy  and  curiosity,  and  with  an  indistinct  notion  that 
the  forlorn  damsel  before  me  regarded  me  as  a  flinty-hearted 
brute  because  I  didn’t  express  violent  indignation  at  her  ill- 
treatment.  I  should  have  done  so  if  I  had  had  any  concep¬ 
tion  of  the  nature  of  the  wrong  endured  by  her.  At  last, 
when  she  had  obtained  relief  in  a  good  cry — and  it  is  surpris¬ 
ing  how  much  better  a  troubled  woman  feels  when  she  has 
cried  and  wiped  her  weeping  eyes — Bessie  told  us  the  story. 

“  Father  came  to  me  to-day,”  she  said,  “  and  told  me  that 
he  had  heard  some  dreadful  things  about  Robert ;  and  he 
said  he  could  not  consent  to  my  marriage  with  such  a  man, 
and  that  our  engagement  must  be  broken  off.” 

“What  kind  of  things?”  indignantly  demanded  Mrs. 
Adeler,  whose  family  pride  was  aroused;  “what  did  he 
hear  ?” 

“  Oh,  something  perfectly  awful !”  exclaimed  Bessie,  look¬ 
ing  up  with  fresh  tears  in  her  eyes.  “  He  said  Robert  drank 
a  great  deal  and  that  he  was  very  often  intoxicated.” 

“  What  an  outrageous  falsehood !”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Adeler. 

“  I  told  father  it  was,”  said  Bessie ;  “  but  he  said  he  knew 
it  was  true,  and,  worse  than  that,  that  Robert  not  only  kept 
very  bad  company  in  the  city,  but  that  he  was  an  atheist — 
that  he  only  came  to  church  in  order  to  deceive  us.” 


BESSIE  GOES  HOME. 


295 


If  the  late  Mr.  Fahrenheit  had  had  to  indicate  the  warmth 
of  Mrs.  Adder’s  indignation  at  this  moment,  he  would  have 
given  215°  as  the  figure.  “  I  declare,”  she  said,  “  that  is  the 
wickedest  falsehood  I  ever  heard.  I  will  call  upon  Mrs. 
Magruder  to-morrow  morning  and  tell  her  so.” 

“  And  father  insisted,”  said  Bessie,  “  that  I  should  write  a 
formal  note  to  Robert,  breaking  our  engagement  and  asking 
him  to  discontinue  his  visits  to  our  house.  I  did  so,  but  I 
could  not  bear  to  have  him  think  me  so  heartless,  and  I  felt 
as  if  I  must  come  here  and  tell  him  about  it  before  the  note 
reached  him.  Please  don’t  think  it  strange  that  I  came, 
and  don’t  let  any  one  know  it.”  Then  Bessie  began  to  sob 
again. 

“  Certainly,  Bessie,”  I  replied,  “  it  was  very  proper  for 
you  to  do  as  you  have  done.  Your  father  has  been  unjust 
to  you  and  to  Bob.  Robert  shall  see  him  and  demand  an 
explanation.  But  who  do  you  suppose  told  your  father 
these  things?” 

“  I  have  no  idea.  But  it  must  have  been  somebody  who 
was  opposed  to  our  marriage,  and  who  hated  Robert.  I 
can’t  believe  that  any  one  would  have  invented  such  stories 
without  a  very  malicious  motive.” 

“  Well,  Bessie,  the  only  thing  we  can  do  now  is  to  permit 
the  matter  to  rest  as  it  is  until  we  have  an  opportunity  to 
disprove  these  slanders.  Let  me  go  home  with  you;  and 
when  Bob  comes  in,  I  will  tell  him  all  about  it.  He  shall 
call  upon  your  father.  I  will  do  so  myself  to-morrow.  Bob 
has  been  unfairly  used.  He  is  as  proper  a  youth  as  any  in 
the  land,  and  worthy  of  the  love  of  any  woman.” 

Then  I  escorted  Bessie  to  her  home,  and  upon  my  way 

back  I  met  Bob  coming  in  hot  haste  toward  me.  He  arrived 

at  the  house  just  after  our  departure ;  and  a  few  words  from 

Mrs.  Adeler  having  placed  him  in  command  of  the  situation, 

he  started  off  at  once  with  the  hope  to  overtake  us  and  to 
24* 


296 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


have  a  few  words  with  Bessie.  He  was  breathless  and  in  a 
condition  of  frenzy.  He  at  first  insisted  upon  storming  the 

castle  of  the  Magruders  at  once 
n  -n  for  the  purpose  of  assailing  the 
$  ,  J  dragon  that  guarded  his  fair  lady. 
bjj _  But  I  showed  him  that  it  would 
perhaps  injure  Bessie  if  he  should 
excite  suspicion  that  she  had  vis¬ 
ited  him,  and  that  it  would  be 
ridiculous  at  any  rate  to  attack 
old  Magruder  at  that  time  of 
night  and  while  he  was  in  such 
a  state  of  excitement.  It  was 
finally  agreed  that  we  should 
wait  until  morning,  and  that  then 
I  should  first  visit  Mr.  Magruder  and  obtain  an  explanation 
from  him,  so  that  Bob  could  go  there  afterward  fully  pre¬ 
pared  to  vindicate  himself. 

“  I’ll  bet  anything,”  said  Bob,  as  we  walked  home,  “  I 
know  who  is  the  author  of  these  slanders.  It  is  Cooley.  He 
don’t  like  you  or  any  of  your  family,  and  he  has  taken  this 
means  of  injuring  us.  If  it  is  he,  I’ll  give  him  an  aggra¬ 
vated  case  of  assault  and  battery  to  settle.  I’ll  thrash  him 
within  an  inch  of  his  life.” 

“  I  don’t  believe  Cooley  did  it,”  I  replied.  “  It  is  not  the 
kind  of  business  that  he  would  care  to  trouble  himself  with.  It 
is  some  one  who  has  an  interest  in  separating  you  and  Bessie.” 

“  I  don’t  know  of  any  such  person,”  said  Bob. 

“  Perhaps  Smiley  did  it.” 

“  That  may  be,”  replied  Bob ;  “  he  has  little  enough  prin¬ 
ciple,  but  I  hardly  think  he  would  display  so  much  malice. 
Besides,  he  knows  very  well  Bessie  would  not  accept  him 
under  any  circumstances.” 

“Well,  let  us  wait  patiently  for  further  developments.  It 


PARKER  HAS  NIGHTMARE. 


297 


is  not  worth  while  to  denounce  any  one  until  we  can  ascer¬ 
tain  who  the  offender  is.” 

Bob  had  been  delayed  in  the  city  by  a  visit  to  his  parents, 
who  were  going  north  for  a  week  or  two,  and  they  consigned 
to  his  care  his  younger  brother,  who  came  -with  him  to  our 
house  to  remain  during  the  absence  of  his  father  and  mother. 
The  boy  was  at  the  house  when  we  reached  it ;  and  when  the 
time  came  for  him  to  go  to  bed,  it  was  arranged  that  he 
should  sleep  with  Bob.  The  consequences  of  this  were  some¬ 
what  peculiar.  The  youngster,  it  appears,  has 
a  habit  of  walking  in  his  sleep,  and  he  was  so 
afraid  that  he  would  do  so  on  this  night,  in  a 


strange  house,  that  Bob  tied  a  strong  piece  of 
twine  about  the  lad’s  waist  and  fastened  the 
other  end  to  his  own  body,  so  that  he  would  be  roused  by  any 
attempt  on  the  part  of  his  bro¬ 
ther  to  prowl  about  the  room. 

It  turned  out,  however,  that  Bob 
was  the  restless  one.  According 
to  his  own  account,  he  got  to 
dreaming  of  his  troubles.  He 
imagined  that  he  was  engaged 
in  a  frightful  combat  with  Mr. 

Magruder,  and  that,  at  the  last, 
that  amiable  old  gentleman  pur¬ 
sued  him  wTith  a  drawn  dagger 
with  the  intent  to  butcher  him. 

In  his  alarm  Bob  pushed  over 
to  Henry’s  side  of  the  bed,  and 
finally,  as  the  visionary  Magruder  still  appeared  to  be  thirsty 

for  his  blood,  he  climbed  over 
Henry,  got  upon  the  floor  and 
hid  himself  beneath  the  bed. 
When  the  apparition  of  the 


298 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


sanguinary  parent  disappeared,  Bob,  still  soundly  asleep, 
must  have  emerged  from  his  hiding-place 
upon  the  side  of  the  bed  opposite  that  at 
which  he  entered  it.  At  any  rate,  the  cord 
ran  from  Henry’s  body  beneath  the  bed 
clear  around  until  it  connected  with  Bob. 

Early  in  the  morning  Bob  moved  over  suddenly  toward  his 
brother ;  and  although  he  was  more  than  half  asleep,  he  was 
amazed  to  see  Henry  drop  over  upon  the  floor.  Bob  in¬ 


stantly  jumped  out  after  him,  and  as  he  did  so,  he  was  even 
more  surprised  to  perceive  the  child  dart  under  the  bed. 
He  followed  Henry ;  and  at  the  first  movement  in  that  direc¬ 
tion,  Henry  shot 
up  off  the  floor, 
and  was  heard 
rolling  swiftly 
across  the  mattress 
above,  only  to  dis¬ 
appear  again  over 
the  side  as  Bob 
came  once  more  to 
the  surface.  By 
this  time  both  of  them  were  wide  awake  and  able  to  com- 


AN  INQUISITIVE  BRUTE. 


299 


prehend  the  phenomenon.  This  is  Mr.  Parker’s  version.  It 
is  probably  exaggerated  slightly.  My  private  impression  is 
that  Henry  was  pulled  out  upon  the  floor  and  under  the  bed, 
and  that  the  exercise  ended  immediately.  Henry  does  not 
remember  the  particulars  with  sufficient  distinctness  to  be 
considered  a  thoroughly  reliable  witness.  His  mind  is  clear 
upon  only  one 
point:  he  is  fully 
persuaded  that  he 
will  not  sleep  in 
harness  with  Bob 
again. 

Upon  the  day 
following  Bessie’s 
visit  I  called  at 
Magruder’s,  in  accordance  with  my  agreement  with  Bob. 
The  servant  said  Mr.  Magruder  had  gone  out,  but  that  he 
would  probably  be  home  in  a  few  moments.  I  declined  an 
invitation  to  go  in  the  house.  It  was  a  fine  day,  and  I  pre¬ 
ferred  to  walk  up  and  down  the  porch  while  waiting.  When 
a  considerable  time  had  elapsed  and  Magruder  did  not  come, 
I  threw  myself  upon  one  of  the  chairs  on  the  porch  and  be¬ 
gan  to  read  the  Argus. 

While  I  was  sitting  there  Magruder’s  dog  came  bounding 
up  the  yard,  and  when  he  saw  me  instantly  manifested  a  de¬ 
sire  to  investigate  me.  I  have  never  liked  Magruder’s  dog ; 
he  is  very  large,  and  he  has  an  extremely  bad  reputation. 
When  he  approached  me,  he  looked  at  me  savagely,  and 
growled  in  such  a  manner  that  cold  chills  began  to  run  up 
and  down  my  back.  Then  the  dog  walked  up  and  sniffed 
my  legs  with  an  earnestness  of  purpose  that  I  had  never 
expected  to  see  displayed  by  a  dumb  animal.  During  this 
operation  I  maintained  a  condition  of  profound  repose.  No 


300 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


man  will  ever  know  how  quiet  I  was.  It  is  doubtful  if  any 
human  being  ever  before  became  so  thoroughly  still  until 
his  immortal  soul  went  to  the  land  of  everlasting  rest. 


When  the  ceremony  was  ended,  the  dog  lay  down  close  to 
the  chair.  As  soon  as  I  felt  certain  that  the  animal  was 
asleep,  I  thought  I  would  go  home  without  seeing  Mr.  Ma- 
gruder ;  but  when  I  attempted  to  rise,  the  dog  leaped  up  and 
growled  so  fiercely  that  I  sat  down  again  at  once.  Then  I 
thought  perhaps  it  would  be  better  not  to  go  home.  It  oc¬ 
curred  to  me,  however,  that  it  would  be  as  well  to  call  some 
one  to  remove  the  dog,  in  case  circumstances  should  make  it 
desirable  for  me  to  depart.  But  at  the  very  first  shout  the 
animal  jumped  to  his  feet,  gave  a  fiendish  bark  and  began 
to  take  a  few  more  inquisitorial  smells  at  my  legs.  And 
whenever  I  shuffled  my  feet,  or  attempted  to  turn  the  Argus 
over  in  order  to  continue  an  article  on  to  the  following  page, 
or  made  the  slightest  movement,  that  infamous  dog  was  up  and 


I  SUDDENLY  CLIMB  THE  FENCE. 


301 


sincSt 


at  me.  Once,  when  I  was  positive¬ 
ly  compelled  to  sneeze,  I  thought, 

-  from  the  indignation  boisterous¬ 
ly  manifested  by  the  dog,  that 
my  hour  at  last  had  come. 

Finally,  Cooley’s  dog,  which 
happened  to  be  in  the  neighbor¬ 
hood,  became  engaged  in  an 
angry  controversy  with  another 
dog  in  the  street  in  front  of  me. 

Magruder’s  dog  was  wide  awake  in  a  moment ;  and  after 
turning  a  regretful  glance  at  me,  as  if  he  knew  he  was  delib¬ 
erately  and  foolishly  throwing  away  a  chance 
of  obtaining  several  glorious  bites,  he  dashed 
down  the  walk  and  over  the  fence  for  the 
purpose  of  participating  in  the  discussion  be¬ 
tween  his  two  friends. 

I  did  not  actually  run,  because  that  would  not  have  been 
dignified,  and  the  servant-girl,  looking  from  the  kitchen 
window,  and  not  understanding  the  nature  of  the  emergency, 
might  have  suspected  me  of 
emotional  insanity.  But  I  walk¬ 
ed  rapidly — very  rapidly — to  the 
rear  fence  of  the  yard,  and  climb¬ 
ed  over  it.  As  I  reached  the 
top  of  the  fence,  I  saw  the  dog  " 
coming  at  full  gallop  down  the 
yard.  He  was  probably  cha¬ 
grined,  but  I  did  not  remain  to 
see  how  he  bore  it.  I  went  di¬ 
rectly  home.  Mr.  Parker  may 
manage  his  own  love  affairs  in 

the  future.  I  shall  not  approach  c  . _ 

Mr.  Magruder  upon  this  disagree- 


302 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


able  subject  again.  I  have  enough  to  do  to  attend  to  my 
own  business. 

When  I  reached  home,  I  found  Judge  Pitman 
waiting  for  me.  He  came  in  for  the  purpose  of 
borrowing  my  axe  for  a  few  moments.  As  we 
went  around  to  the  rear  of  the  house  to  get  it, 
the  judge  said : 

“  I  reckon  you  don’t  use  no  terbacker,  do  you  ?” 

“  I  smoke  sometimes ;  that  is  all.” 

“Well,  I  was  jist  feelin’  ’s  if  I  wanted  a  chaw,  an*  I 
thought  p’rhaps  you  might  have  one  about  you.  Seein’ 
Cooley  over  there  on  his  porch  put  me  in  mind  of  it.” 

“  That  is  rather  a  singular  circumstance.  Why  should  a 
view  of  Cooley  suggest  such  a  thing  ?” 

“  ’Tis  kinder  sing’lar ;  but  you  see,”  said  the  judge,  “Cooley 
was  a-tellin’  me  yesterday  mornin’  about  somethin’  that  oc¬ 
curred  the  day  before  at  his  house.  The  old  woman  is  op¬ 
posed  to  his  chawin’,  an’  she  makes  it  stormy  for  him  when 
he  does.  So  he  never  uses  no 
terbacker  ’round  home,  an’ 
he  told  her  he’d  given  it  up. 

The  other  day,  just  as  he  was 
goin’  in  to  supper,  he  pulled 
out  his  handkercher,  an’  out 
come  a  plug  of  terbacker 
’long  with  it.  He  didn’t 
know  it,  but  directly  Mrs. 

Cooley  lit  on  it,  an’  she 
walked  up  to  him  an’  want¬ 
ed  to  know  if  it  was  his.  It 
was  a  little  rough,  you  un¬ 
derstand,  but  he  had  pres¬ 
ence  of  mind  enough  to  turn 
to  his  boy  and  say,  ‘  Great 


‘ c i  c 


COOLEY’S  ECHO. 


303 


Heavens !  is  it  possible  you’ve  begun  to  chaw 
stuff?  What  d’you  mean  by  sicli  conduct? 

Haven’t  I  told  you  often  enough  to  let  ter- 
backer  alone?  Com  mere  to  me  this  minute, 
you  rascal !’  Cooley  licked  him  like  the  nation, 
an’  then  threw  the  terbacker  out  the  winder 
onto  the  porch,  where  he  could  git  it  agin  in 
the  mornin’.  ” 

“That  was  pretty  severe  treatment  of  the 
boy.”  • 

“  An’  Cooley  says  to  me,  ‘  By  gracious,  judge ! 
children  had  all  been  girls !  It  makes  an  old  father’s  heart 
glad  when  he  thinks  he  has  a  boy  he  can  depend  upon  at 
sich  times !’  Healthy  old  parent,  ain’t  he  ?” 

“  The  word  ‘  healthy’  hardly  expresses  with  sufficient  vigor 
the  infamy  of  his  conduct.” 

“  Cooley  never  did  treat  that  there  boy  right,”  said  the 
judge,  as  he  seated  himself  on  the  saw-horse  in  the  woodshed 
and  locked  his  hands  over  one  of  his  knees,  evidently  with 
the  intention  to  have  some  sociable  conversation.  “  He 
never  behaved  like  a  father  to  him.  He  brought  up  that 
there  child  to  lie.  That  echo  business,  f ’r  instance ;  it  was 
scand’lus  in  him.” 

“  To  what  do  you  refer  ?” 

“  Why,  afore  Cooley  come  yer  to  live  he  kep’  a  hotel  up 
in  the  Lehigh  Valley — a  fashionable  kinder  tavern,  I  reckon ; 
an’  there  was  another  man  about  two  miles  furder  up  who 
had  a  bigger  hotel.  You  could  stand  on  this  other  man’s 
porch  an’  make  a  splendid  echo  by  whistlin’  or  hollerin’. 
You  could  hear  the  noise  agin  a  dozen  times.  Leastways, 
Cooley  told  me  so.  Well,  Cooley,  you  know,  hated  like  pisin 
to  be  beaten  on  that  echo,  an’  so  he  kinder  concluded  to  git 
one  up  for  himself.  He  made  that  there  boy  of  his’n  go 

over  on  the  mountain  across  the  river  an’  hide  among  the 

25 


this  ornary 


s’pose’n  my 


304 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


ChR  SC 


bushes,  an’  then  he  would  take  people  up  on  the  roof  of  the 

house  and  holler,  an’  the  boy 
would  holler  back  agin.  He 
told  everybody  that  the  echo 
could  only  be  heard  on  the  roof, 
an’  he  kep’  the  trap  door  locked, 
so’s  nobody  would  find  him  out.” 

“That  was  a  poor  kind  of  a 
swindle.” 

“  Yes,  sir.  Well,  that  boy,  you 
’bserve,  gradually  got  rusty  in 
the  business  an’  tired  of  it,  an’ 
sometimes  he’d  take  another  boy 
over  with  him,  an’  they’d  git  to 
playin’  an’  forgit  to  answer.  It 
was  embarrassin’  for  Cooley,  an’ 
the  secret  begun  to  leak  out.  But  one  day  the  whole  concern 
was  bu’sted.  Cooley  took  a  lot  of  folks  from  the  city,  among 
’em  some  o’  them  newspaper  people,  an’  for  a  while  the  boy 
worked  all  right.  But  he  had  another  feller  with  him,  and 
he  kep’  a-repeatin’  things  that  no¬ 
body  said.  Cooley  stood  it  for 
a  while,  though  he  was  mad  as 
fury ;  an’  at  last,  when  somebody 
tried  to  start  the  echo,  there  was 
no  answer.  They  all  thought  it 
was  mighty  queer,  but  after  callin’ 
a  good  many  times,  the  boy  come 
out  in  full  view  an’  yelled  back, 

‘I’m  not  a-goin’  to  answer  any 
more.  Bill  Johnson  won’t  gimme 
my  knife,  an’  I  won’t  holler  till 
I  git  it ;  blamed  if  I  do.’  Cooley 
tells  me  that  the  manner  in  which  he  sailed  across  the 


HOW  COOLEY  FAILED. 


305 


creek  after  that  child  was  somethin’  awful  to  behold.  But 
it  knocked  him,  sir.  It  closed  him  up.  Them  newspaper 
men  started  the  thing  on  him,  an’  they  run  him  so  hard 
that  he  had  to  quit.  He  sold  out  and  come  yer  to  live.  But 
is  it  any  wonder  that  boy’s  spiled  ?  Cooley ’d  spile  a  blessed 
young  angel  the  way  he  goes  on.  But  I  must  say  good- 
mornin’.  Much  obleeged  for  the  axe.  Good-bye.” 

And  the  judge  went  home  meditating  upon  Cooley’s  unfit¬ 
ness  for  the  duties  of  a  parent.  I  would  like  to  know  if  that 
echo  story  is  true.  I  have  no  doubt  the  judge  received  it 
from  Cooley,  but  it  sounds  as  if  the  latter  ingenious  gentle¬ 
man  might  have  wrenched  it  from  his  imagination. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


The  Certificate  concerning  Pitman’s  Hair — Unendurable 
Persecution-^-A  Warning  to  Men  with  Baldheaded 
Friends — An  Explanation — The  Slanderer  Discovered 
— Benjamin  P.  Gunn — A  Model  Life  Insurance  Agent. 

HAVE  been  the  victim  of  a 
somewhat  singular  persecu¬ 
tion  for  several  weeks  past. 
When  we  came  here  to  live, 
Judge  Pitman  was  partially 
bald.  Somebody  induced 
him  to  apply  to  his  head  a 
hair  restorative  made  by  a 
Chicago  man  named  Pulsifer. 
After  using  this  liquid  for  a 
few  months,  the  judge  was 
gratified  to  find  that  his  hair 
had  returned ;  and  as  he  nat¬ 
urally  regarded  the  remedy 
with  admiration,  he  con¬ 
cluded  that  it  would  be  simply  fair  to  give  expression  to  his 
feelings  in  some  form.  As  I  happened  to  be  familiar  with 
all  the  facts  of  the  case,  the  judge  induced  me  to  draw  up  a 
certificate  affirming  them  over  my  signature.  This  he 
mailed  to  Pulsifer.  I  have  not  yet  ceased  to  regret  the 
weakness  which  permitted  me  to  stand  sponsor  for  Judge 
Pitman’s  hair.  Of  course,  Pulsifer  immediately  inserted  the 
certificate,  with  my  name  and  residence  attached  to  it,  in 
half  the  papers  in  the  country,  as  a  displayed  advertisement, 

306 


AN  AVALANCHE  OF  DEUOS. 


307 


beginning  with  the  words,  “  Hope  for  the  Baldheaded  ; 
The  Most  Remarkable  Cure  on  Record,”  in  the  largest 
capital  letters. 

I  have  had  faith  in  advertising  since  that  time.  And 
Pulsifer  had  confidence  in  it  too,  for  he  wrote  to  me  to  know 
what  I  would  take  to  get  him  up  a  series  of  similar  certifi¬ 
cates  of  cures  performed  by  his  other  patent  medicines.  He 
had  a  corn-salve  wThich  dragged  a  little  in  its  sales,  and  he 
was  prepared  to  offer  me  a  commission  if  I  would  write  him 
a  strong  letter  to  the  effect  that  six  or  eight  frightful  corns 
had  been  eradicated  from  my  feet  with  his  admirable  prep¬ 
aration.  He  was  in  a  position,  also,  to  do  something  hand¬ 
some  if  I  could  describe  a  few  miraculous  cures  that  had 
been  effected  by  his  Rheumatic  Lotion,  or  if  I  would  name 
certain  ruined  stomachs  which  had,  as  it  were,  been  born 
again  through  the  influence  of  Pulsifer’s  Herb  Bitters;  and 
from  the  manner  in  wThich  he  wrote,  I  think  he  would  have 
taken  me  into  partnership  if  I  had  consented  to  write  an 
assurance  that  his  Ready  Relief  had  healed  a  bad  leg  of 
eighteen  years’  standing,  and  that  I  could  never  feel  that 
my  duty  was  honorably  performed  until  he  sent  me  a  dozen 
bottles  more  for  distribution  among  my  friends  whose  legs 
were  in  that  defective  and  tiresome  condition.  I  was  obliged 
to  decline  Pulsifer’s  generous  offer. 

I  heard  with  singular  promptness  from  other  medical 
men.  Fillemup  &  Killem  forwarded  some  of  their  Hair 
Tonic,  with  a  request  for  me  to  try  it  on  any  bald  heads  I 
happened  to  encounter,  and  report.  Doser  &  Co.  sent  on 
two  packages  of  their  Capillary  Pills,  with  a  suggestion  to 
the  effect  that  if  Pitman  lost  his  hair  again  he  would  get  it 
back  finally  by  following  the  enclosed  directions.  I  also 
heard  from  Brown  &  Bromley,  the  agents  for  Johnson’s 
Scalp  Awakener.  They  sent  me  twelve  bottles  for  distribu¬ 
tion  among  my  bald  friends ;  then  Smith  &  Smithson  wrote 
2b* 


308 


OUT  OF  THE  HUBLY-BUBLY. 


to  say  that  a  cask  of  their  Vesuvian  Wash  for  the  hair 
would  be  delivered  in  my  cellar  by  the  express  company ;  and 
a  man  called  on  me  from  Jones,  Butler  &  Co.  with  a  prop¬ 
osition  to  pump  out  my  vinegar  barrel,  and  fill  it  with  Balm 
of  Peru  for  the  gratuitous  use  of  the  afflicted  in  the  vicinity. 

But  this  persecution  was  simply  unalloyed  felicity  when 
compared  with  the  suffering  that  came  in  other  forms.  I 

will  not  attempt  to  give  the  num¬ 
ber  of  the  letters  I  received.  I  cher¬ 
ish  a  conviction  that  the  mail  re¬ 
ceived  at  our  post-office  doubled 
the  first  week  after  Judge  Pit¬ 
man’s  cure  was  announced  to  a 
hairless  world.  I  think  every 
bald-headed  man  in  the  Tropic 
of  Cancer  must  have  written  to 
me  at  least  twice  upon  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  Pulsifer’s  Kenovator  and 
Pitman’s  hair.  Persons  dropped 
me  a  line  to  inquire  if  Pitman’s 
baldness  was  hereditary ;  and  if 
so,  if  it  came  from  his  father’s  or  his  mother’s  side.  One 
man,  a  phrenologist,  sent  on  a  plaster  head  mapped  out  into 
town-lots,  with  a  suggestion  that  I  should  ink  over  the  bumps 
that  had  been  barest  and  most  fertile  in  the  case  of  Pitman. 
He  said  he  had  a  little  theory  which  he  wanted  to  demon¬ 
strate.  A  man  in  San  Francisco  wrote  to  inquire  if  my 
Pitman  was  the  same  Pitman  who  came  out  to  California  in 
1849  with  a  bald  head ;  and  if  he  was,  would  I  try  to  collect 
two  dollars  Pitman  had  borrowed  from  him  in  that  year  ?  The 
superintendent  of  a  Sunday-school  in  Vermont  forwarded 
eight  pages  of  foolscap  covered  with  an  argument  supporting 
the  theory  that  it  was  impious  to  attempt  to  force  hair  to 
grow  upon  a  head  which  had  been  made  bald,  because, 


ANXIOUS  INQUIRERS. 


309 


although  Elisha  was  bald,  we  find  no  record  in  the  Bible 
that  he  used  renovator  of  any  kind.  He  warned  Pitman 
to  beware  of  Absalom’s  fate,  and  to  avoid  riding  mules  out 
in  the  woods.  A  woman  in  Snyder  county,  Penna.,  sent  me 
a  poem  inspired  by  the  incident,  and  entitled  “  Lines  on  the 
Return  of  Pitman’s  Hair.”  A  party  in  Kansas  desired  to 
know  whether  I  thought  Pulsifer’s  Renovator  could  be  used 
beneficially  by  a  man  wyho  had  been  scalped.  Two  men  in 
New  Jersey  -wrote,  in  a  manner  totally  irrelevant  to  the 
subject,  to  inquire  if  I  could  get  each  of  them  a  good  hired 
girl.  I  received  a  confidential  letter  from  a  man  who  was 
willing  to  let  me  into  a  “  good  thing”  if  I  had 
five  hundred  dollars  cash  capital.  Mrs.  Sin- 
gerly,  of  Frankford,  related  that  she  had 
shaved  her  dog,  and  shaved  him  too  close, 
and  she  would  be  relieved  if  I  would  inform 
her  if  the  Renovator  would  make  hair  grow  on  a  dog.  A 
devoted  mother  in  Rhode  Island  said  her  little  boy  had  acci¬ 
dentally  drank  a  bottle  of 
the  stuff,  and  she  would  go 
mad  unless  I  could  assure 
her  that  there  was  no  dan¬ 
ger  of  her  child  having  his 
stomach  choked  up  with 
hair.  And  over  eleven 
hundred  boys  inquired  what 
effect  the  Renovator  would 
have  on  the  growth  of  whisk¬ 
ers  which  betrayed  an  in¬ 
clination  to  stagnation. 

But  the  visitors  were  a 
more  horrible  torment.  Bald 
men  came  to  see  me  in 
droves.  They  persecuted 


310 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


me  at  home  and  abroad.  If  I  went  to  church,  the  sexton 
would  call  me  out  during  the  prayers  to  see  a  man  in  the 
vestibule  who  wished  to  ascertain  if  Pitman  merely  bathed 
his  head  or  rubbed  the  medicine  in  with  a  brush.  When  I 
went  to  a  party,  some  bald-headed  miscreant  would  stop  me 
in  the  midst  of  the  dance  to  ask  if  Pitman’s  hair  began  to 
grow  in  the  full  of  the  moon  or  when  it  was  new.  While  I 
was  being  shaved,  some  one  would  bolt  into  the  shop  and  in¬ 
sist,  as  the  barber  held  me  by  the  nose,  upon  knowing  whether 
Pitman  wore  ventilators  in  his  hat.  If  I  attended  a  wedding, 
as  likely  as  not  a  bare-headed  outlaw  would  stand  by  me  at 
the  altar  and  ask  if  Pitman  ever  slept  in  nightcaps ;  and 
more  than  once  I  was  called  out  of  bed  at  night  by  wretches 
who  wished  to  learn,  before  they  left  the  town,  if  I  thought 
it  hurt  the  hair  to  part  it  behind. 


It  became  unendurable.  I  issued  orders  to  the  servants 
to  admit  to  the  house  no  man  with  a  bald  head.  But  that 
very  day  a  stranger  obtained  admission  to  the  parlor;  and 


MAGRUDER  EXPLAINS. 


311 


when  I  went  down  to  see  him,  he  stepped  softly  around, 
closed  all  the  doors  mysteriously,  and  asked  me,  in  a  whisper, 
if  any  one  could  hear  us.  Then  he  pulled  off  a  wig-;  and 
handing  me  a  microscope,  he  requested  me  to  examine  his 
scalp  and  tell  him  if  there  was  any  hope.  I  sent  him  over 
to  see  Pitman  ;  and  I  gloat  over  the  fact  that  he  bored  Pit¬ 
man  for  two  hours  with  his  baldness. 

I  am  sorry  now  that  I  ever  wrote  anything  upon  the  sub¬ 
ject  of  his  hair.  A  bald  Pitman,  I  know,  is  less  fascinating 
than  a  Pitman  with  hair;  but  rather  than  have  suffered 
this  misery,  I  would  prefer  a  Pitman  without  an  eye-winker, 
or  fuzz  enough  on  him  to  make  a  camel’s-hair  pencil.  But 
I  shall  hardly  give  another  certificate  of  cure  in  any  event. 
If  I  should  see  a  patent-medicine  man  take  a  mummy  which 
died  the  year  Joseph  was  sold  into  Egypt,  and  dose  it  until 
it  kicked  off  its  rags  and  danced  the  polka  mazourka  while 
it  whistled  the  tune,  I  would  die  at  the  stake  sooner  than 
acknowledge  the  miracle  on  paper.  Pitman’s  hair  winds  me 
up  as  far  as  medical  certificates  are  concerned. 

Bob  has  succeeded  in  obtaining  from  Mr.  Magruder  an  ex¬ 
planation  of  the  interference  of  that  stern  parent  with  the 
progress  of  his  love  affair,  and  we  hope  now  to  secure  a 
happy  adjustment  of  the  difficulty. 

“  When  I  entered  the  room,”  said  Bob,  “  the  old  man 
looked  gloomy  and  stiff,  as  if  he  regarded  me  as  a  totally 
depraved  being,  too  far  gone  in  iniquity  to  be  worth  an  effort 
to  effect  a  reform.  I  went  right  at  him.  I  told  him  I  had 
heard  that  some  one  had  made  certain  charges  against  me 
which  were  likely  to  hurt  my  reputation,  and  that  it  was  be¬ 
cause  of  these  that  he  had  refused  to  permit  me  to  marry 
his  daughter. 

“  He  said  I  had  stated  the  case  correctly.  Then  I  asked 
him  to  give  me  the  name  of  the  person  who  had  made  these 


312 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


accusations.  He  hesitated  for  a  few  moments,  and  I  then  de¬ 
clared  that  the  charges  were  false  and  slanderous,  and  assert¬ 
ed  that  I  had  a  right  to  know  who  the  author  of  them  was. 

“  After  thinking  over  the  matter  for  a  while,  he  said, 

“‘Well,  Mr.  Parker,  I  believe  you  have  that  right.  I 
have  thought  lately  that  I  did  not  perhaps  treat  you  very 
fairly  in  not  bringing  you  face  to  face  in  the  first  place  with 
the  man  who  accused  you.  But  I  almost  pledged  myself 
to  regard  his  statements  as  confidential ;  and  as  the  evidence 
seemed  to  be  overwhelming  against  you,  I  concluded  not  to 
offer  you  the  opportunity.  Mrs.  Magruder  takes  a  different 
view  of  the  matter.  She  thinks  you  should  not  be  condemned 
without  a  hearing,  and  she  distrusts  your  accuser.  His  name 
is  Smiley — Lieutenant  Smiley.’ 

“  Then  the  old  man  went  on,”  said  Bob,  “  and  told  me  that 
Smiley  had  sought  a  private  interview  with  him,  at  which 
Smiley  had  declared  that  I  was  not  only  a  debauchee,  but 
an  atheist.  He  made  this  statement,  he  told  Mr.  Magruder, 
with  reluctance  and  regret,  but  he  felt  that  as  a  friend  of  the 
family  he  had  a  duty  to  perform  which  was  imperative. 
Smiley  declared  that  he  had  frequently  seen  me  under  the 
influence  of  liquor,  and  that  I  had  often  attacked  him  for 
professing  to  believe  in  the  Christian  religion.  A  splendid 
old  professor  of  religion  he  is!”  exclaimed  Mr.  Parker. 
“  And  then,”  continued  Bob,  “  Mr.  Magruder  said  Smiley 
produced  two  letters,  one  from  a  man  named  Dewey  who  pre¬ 
tended  to  be  the  pastor  of  a  church  in  Philadelphia,  from 
which  he  said  I  was  dismissed  for  expressing  atheistical 
opinions,  and  the  other  from  a  certain  Samuel  Stonebury, 
wherein  Samuel  gave  me  a  dreadful  character  for  honesty 
and  sobriety. 

“  Thereupon  I  informed  Mr.  Magruder  that  I  knew  of  no 
clergyman  named  Dewey,  and  that  I  didn’t  believe  such  a 
man  existed  in  Philadelphia  ;  that  I  never  belonged  to  any 


OUR  LIFE  INSURANCE  AGENT. 


313 


church,  and  certainly  was  never  kicked  out  of  one  because  of 
my  atheistical  opinions,  for  I  never  entertained  such  views. 
I  informed  him  also  that  Mr.  Stonebury  was  a  youth  who  was 
once  employed  in  our  store,  and  who  was  discharged  because 
I  discovered  that  he  had  been  stealing.  How  Smiley  found 
him  I  can’t  imagine.  They  must  have  had  a  natural  tend¬ 
ency  to  gravitate  toward  each  other  as  children  of  the  same 
old  father  of  lies. 

“  Then  Mr.  Magruder  said  that  if  I  could  prove  these  facts 
he  would  not  only  hand  Bessie  over  to  me  again,  but  he 
would  also  make  me  a  very  humble  apology.  I  promised  to 
accomplish  these  results,  and  to-morrow  I  will  set  about  the 
work.  I  have  no  doubt  at  all  that  Stonebury  wrote  the  letter 
signed  ‘  Dewey,’  and  that  Smiley  suggested  that  playful  little 
dodge  to  him.  I  will  move  on  Smiley’s  wrorks  when  I  meet 
him.  He  is  the  wickedest  kind  of  a  scoundrel.” 

And  so  the  case  of  Parker  versus  Smiley  stands  at  present. 
I  should  have  a  higher  respect  for  Magruder  if  he  had  acted 
more  justly  with  Bob  in  the  first  place.  If  Mrs.  Magruder’s 
instinct  and  common  sense  had  not  induced  her  to  regard 
Smiley  with  suspicion,  I  am  afraid  that  Bob’s  wrongs  would 
never  have  been  righted.  The 
doctor  is  evidently  the  wiser  and 
better  person  of  the  two,  and  I 
am  not  surprised  now  that  she 
keeps  her  husband  a  little  in  the 
background. 

Some  relatives  of  the  Magruders 
named  Kemper  came  to  the  village 
to  live  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  they 
rented  a  house  not  far  from  mine. 

We  have  a  life  insurance  agent  in 
the  town  named  Benjamin  P. 


314 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Gunn,  and  he  is  decidedly  the  most  enterprising  and  in¬ 
defatigable  of  the  fraternity  of  which  he  is  a  member.  He 
has  already  bored  everybody  in  the  county  nearly  to  death, 
and  it  is  easy  to  imagine  the  delight  he  feels  when  a  new 
victim  comes  within  his  reach.  The  Kempers  were  hardly 
fixed  in  their  hew  home  when  Gunn,  who  had  been  await¬ 
ing  with  impatience  a  chance  to  attack  them,  one .  morn¬ 
ing  called  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  if  he  could  induce 
Mr.  Kemper  to  take  out  a  policy  of  insurance  upon  his  life. 
In  response  to  his  summons  Mrs.  Kemper  came  into  the 
parlor  to  see  him.  The  following  conversation  then  ensued : 

“  I  suppose,”  said  Gunn,  “  Mr.  Kemper  has  no  insurance 
on  his  life?” 

“No,”  said  Mrs.  Kemper. 

“Well,  I’d  like  to  get  him  to  take  a  policy  in  our  com¬ 
pany.  It’s  the  safest  in  the  world — the  largest  capital, 
smallest  rates  and  biggest  dividends.” 

“  Mr.  Kemper  don’t  take  much  interest  in  such  things 
now,”  said  Mrs.  K. 

“  Well,  madam,  but  he  ought  to,  in  common  justice  to 
you.  No  man  knows  when  he  will  die ;  and  by  paying  a 
ridiculously  small  sum  now,  Mr.  Kemper  can  leave  his 
family  in  affluence.  I’d  like  to  hand  you,  for  him,  a  few 
pamphlets  containing  statistics  upon  the  subject;  may  I?” 

“  Of  course,  if  you  wish  to.” 

“Don’t  you  think  he  can  be  induced  to  insure?”  asked 
Gunn. 

“  I  hardly  think  so,”  replied  Mrs.  Kemper. 

“He  is  in  good  health,  I  suppose?  Has  he  complained 
lately  of  being  sick?” 

“Not  lately.” 

“  May  I  ask  if  he  has  any  considerable  wealth?” 

“  Not  a  cent.” 

“Then,  of  course,  he  must  insure.  No  poor  man  can 


MR.  GUNN  IS  ASSAILED. 


315 


afford  to  neglect  such  an  opportunity.  I  suppose  he  travels 
sometimes — goes  about  in  railroad  cars  and  other  dangerous 
places?” 

“  No,  he  keeps  very  quiet.” 

“Man  of  steady  habits,  I  s’pose?” 

“Very  steady.” 

“  He  is  the  very  man  I  want,”  said  Gunn.  “  I  know  I 
can  sell  him  a  policy.” 

“  I  don’t  think  you  can,”  replied  Mrs.  Kemper. 

“  Why  ?  When  will  he  be  home  ?  I’ll  call  on  him.  I 
don’t  know  of  any  reason  why  I  shouldn’t  insure  him.” 

“  I  know,”  replied  Mrs.  K. 

“  Why?” 

“  He  has  been  dead  twenty-seven  years  /”  said  the  widow. 

Then  Mr.  Gunn  said 
“good-morning,”  and  re¬ 
turned  to  his  office.  The 
widow  must  have  told  the 
story  to  some  one,  probably 
to  Magruder,  for  it  was 
soon  known  all  over  town, 
and  those  who  had  suffered 
from  an  excess  of  Gunn 
gloried  in  his  discomfiture. 

As  this  was  the  first  time  in 
his  career  that  he  had  ever 
been  down,  it  is  not  sur¬ 
prising  that  several  of  his 
enemies  should  improve  the 
opportunity  by  giving  him 
a  few  vigorous  kicks.  The  most  venomous  attack  upon  him, 
however,  appeared  in  the  Argus.  It  came,  I  think,  from 
that  remarkable  medical  man  Dr.  Tobias  Jones,  who  dis¬ 
likes  Gunn  because  he  employs  a  rival  physician,  Dr.  Brind- 
26 


316 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


ley,  to  examine  persons  who  apply  for  policies.  He  called 
the  article 

A  Life  Insurance  Agent. 

His  name  was  Benjamin  P.  Gunn,  and  he  was  the  agent 
for  a  life  insurance  company.  He  came  around  to  my  office 
fourteen  times  in  one  morning  to  see  if  he  could  not  persuade 
me  to  take  out  a  policy.  He  used  to  waylay  me  on  the 
street,  at  church,  in  my  own  house,  and  bore  me  about  that 
policy.  If  I  went  to  the  opera,  Gunn  would  buy  the  seat 
next  to  me,  and  sit  there  the  whole  evening  talking  about 
sudden  death  and  the  advantages  of  the  ten-year  plan.  If  I 
got  into  a  railway  car,  Gunn  would  come  rushing  in  and  sit 
by  my  side,  and  drag  out  a  lot  of  mortality  tables  and  begin 
to  explain  how  I  could  gouge  a  fortune  out  of  his  company. 
If  I  sat  down  to  dinner  in  a  restaurant,  up  would  come 
Gunn ;  and  seizing  the  chair  next  to  me,  he  would  tell  a 
cheering  anecdote  about  a  man  who  insured  in  his  company 
for  $50,000  only  last  week,  and  was  buried  yesterday.  If 
I  attended  the  funeral  of  a  departed  friend,  and  wept  as  they 
threw  the  earth  upon  his  coffin,  I  would  hear  a  whisper;  and 
turning  around,  there  would  be  the  indomitable  Benjamin 
P.  Gunn,  bursting  to  say,  “  Poor  Smith !  Knew  him  well. 
Insured  for  ten  thousand  in  our  company.  Widow  left 
in  comfortable  circumstances.  Let  me  take  your  name. 
Shall  I  ?” 

He  followed  me  everywhere,  until  at  last  I  got  so  sick  of 
Gunn’s  persecutions  that  I  left  town  suddenly  one  evening 
and  hid  myself  in  a  distant  city,  hoping  to  get  rid  of  him. 
At  the  end  of  two  weeks  I  returned,  reaching  home  at  one 
o’clock  in  the  morning.  I  had  hardly  got  into  bed  before 
there  was  a  ring  at  the  door-bell.  I  looked  out,  and  there 
was  Gunn  with  another  person.  Mr.  Gunn  observed  that 
he  expected  my  return,  and  thought  he  would  call  around 
about  that  insurance  policy.  He  said  he  had  the  doctor 


THE  ARDOR  OF  GUNN. 


317 


with  him,  and  if  I  would  come  down  he  would  take  my  name 
and  have  me  examined  immediately.  I  was  too  indignant 
to  reply.  I  shut  the  window  with  a  slam  and  went  to  bed 
again.  After  breakfast  in  the  morning  I  opened 
the  front  door,  and  there  was  Gunn  sitting  on 
the  steps  with  his  doctor,  waiting  for  me.  He 
had  been  there  all  night.  As  I  came  out  they 
seized  me  and  tried  to  undress  me  there  on  the 
pavement  in  order  to  examine  me.  I  retreated 
and  locked  myself  up  in  the  garret,  with  orders  to  admit  no¬ 
body  to  the  house  until  I  came  down  stairs. 

But  Gunn  wouldn’t  be  baffled.  He  actually  rented  the 
house  next  door  and  stationed  himself  in  the  garret  adjoining 
mine.  When  he  got  fixed,  he  spent  his  time  pounding  on  the 
partition  and  crying,  “  Hallo !  I  say !  how  about  that 
policy?  Want  to  take  it  out  now?”  And  then 
he  would  tell  me  some  more  anecdotes  about 
men  who  were  cut  off  immediately  after  paying 
the  first  premium.  But  I  paid  no  attention  to 
him  and  made  no  noise.  Then  he  was  silent  for 
a  while. 

Suddenly  the  trap-door  of  my  garret  was 
wrenched  off ;  and  upon  looking  up,  I  saw 
Gunn,  with  the  doctor  and  a  crowbar  and  a  lot 
of  death-rates,  coming  down  the  ladder  at  me. 
I  fled  from  the  house  to  the  Presbyterian  church  close  by, 
and  paid  the  sexton  twenty  dollars  to  let  me  climb  up  to  the 
point  of  the  steeple  and  sit  astride  of  the  ball.  I  promised 
him  twenty  more  if  he  would  exclude  everybody  from  that 
steeple  for  a  week.  Once  safely  on  the  ball,  three  hundred 
feet  from  the  earth,  I  made  myself  comfortable  with  the 
thought  that  I  had  Gunn  at  a  disadvantage,  and  I  deter¬ 
mined  to  beat  him  finally  if  I  had  to  stay  there  for  a  month. 
About  an  hour  afterward,  while  I  was  looking  at  the  superb 


318 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


view  to  the  west,  I  heard  a  rustling  sound  upon  the  other 
side  of  the  steeple.  I  looked  around,  and  there  was  Benja¬ 
min  P.  Gunn  creeping  up  the  side  of  the  spire 
in  a  balloon,  in  which  was  the  doctor  and  the 
tabular  estimates  of  the  losses  of  his  company 
from  the  Tontine  system.  As  soon  as  Gunn 
reached  the  ball  he  threw  his  grappling-iron 
into  the  shingles  of  the  steeple,  and  asked  me 
at  what  age  my  father  died,  and  if  any  of  my 
aunts  ever  had  consumption  or  liver  com¬ 
plaint. 

Without  waiting  to  reply,  I  slid  down  the 
steeple  to  the  ground  and  took  the  first  train 
for  the  Mississippi  Valley.  In  two  weeks  I 
was  in  Mexico.  I  determined  to  go  to  the  in¬ 
terior  and  seek  some  wild  spot  in  some  ele¬ 
vated  region  where  no  Gunn  would  ever  dare 
to  come.  I  mounted  a  mule,  and  paid  a 
to  lead  me  to  the  summit  of  Popocatapetl. 
We  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  at 
noon.  We  toiled  upward  for  about  four 
hours.  Just  before  reaching  the  top  I  heard  the  sound  of 
voices ;  and  upon  rounding  a  point  of  rocks,  whom  should  I  see 
but  Benjamin  P.  Gunn,  seated  on  the  very  edge  of  the  crater, 
explaining  the  endowment  plan 
to  his  guide  and  stupefying  him 
with  a  mortality  table,  while  the 
doctor  had  the  other  guide  a  few 
yards  off,  examining  him  to  see  if 
he  was  healthy !  Mr.  Gunn  arose 
and  said  he  was  glad  to  see  me, 
because  now  we  could  talk  over 
that  business  about  the  policy 
without  fear  of  interruption.  In 


GUNN  VISITS  THE  EDITOR . 


319 


a  paroxysm  of  rage  I  pushed  him  backward  into  the  crater, 
and  he  fell  a  thousand  feet  below  with  a  heavy  thud. 
As  he  struck  the  bottom  I  heard  a  voice  screaming  out 
something  about  “  non-forfeiture ;”  but  there  was  a  sudden 
convulsion  of  the  mountain,  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  I  heard 
no  more. 

But  on  the  following  Thursday  an  eruption  began,  and 
the  first  thing  that  was  thrown  out  was  Benjamin  P.  Gunn, 
scorched,  with  his  hair  singed 
off  and  in  a  profuse  perspiration, 
but  still  active  and  ready  for 
business.  If  I  should  be  killed,  I 
verily  believe  Gunn  would  com¬ 
mit  suicide  in  order  that  he  might 
follow  me  into  the  next  world. 

Of  course  this  is  mere  burlesque 
and  it  is  hardly  fair  treatment 
of  Gunn.  But  I  am  gratified  to  learn  that  such  ridicule 
does  not  hurt  his  feelings.  On  the  day  the  article  appeared 
he  called  to  see  Colonel  Bangs.  The  colonel  apprehended  an 
assault;  and  rallying  his  clerks  and  reporters  around  him,  he 
seized  a  club  and  gave  orders  that  Gunn  should 
be  admitted.  But  Benjamin  did  not  intend 
war.  He  grasped  the  colonel’s  hand;  and  after 
thanking  him  for  such  a  handsome  gratuitous 
advertisement,  he  pulled  a  schedule  out  of  his 
pocket  and  argued  with  Bangs  until  the  latter 
in  despair  agreed  to  take  out  another  policy  for  ten  thousand 
dollars  in  Gunn’s  company. 

We  do  not  regard  Lieutenant  Smiley  as  a  very  entertain¬ 
ing  person  at  present,  and  of  course  he  is  not  quoted  with 
enthusiasm.  But  during  the  prevalence  of  the  excitement 


320 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


created  by  the  victory  over  Pitman’s  baldness,  Smiley  related 
an  anecdote  bearing  upon  the  subject  of  hair  which  com¬ 
bined  instruction  with  amusement  in  a  remarkable  degree, 
and  it  may  be  profitable  to  reproduce  it  here  as  an  illustra¬ 
tion  of  the  demoralizing  tendencies  of  the  red  man. 

During  the  recent  visit  of  a  party  of  Indians  to  the  East, 
one  of  the  number,  Squatting  Bear,  was  observed  to  behave 
himself  in  a  very  remarkable  and  mysterious  manner.  He 
separated  himself  from  his  companions  on  one  occasion  for 
several  hours,  and  was  then  seen  returning  dragging  a  huge 
Saratoga  trunk  behind  him  through  the  streets  with  a  string. 
When  he  reached  his  lodgings  with  the  trunk,  the  other 
Indians  were  puzzled.  Some  of  them  believed  the  trunk  to 
be  a  model  for  a  new  kind  of  wigwam  with  a  Mansard  roof, 
while  others  conceived  the  idea  that  it  was  a  patent  bath-tub 
of  some  peculiar  sort,  and  that  Squatting  Bear,  in  a  moment 
of  mental  aberration,  had  been  seized  with  an  inexplicable 
and  unprecedented  desire  to  wash  himself.  The  souls  of  the 
savages  burned  with  fiery  indignation  as  they  contemplated 
the  possibility  of  the  adoption  of  this  revolutionary,  ener¬ 
vating  and  demoralizing  practice  of  the  pale  faces  by  the 
noble  red  man.  But  when  they  questioned  Squatting  Bear 
and  remonstrated  with  him,  that  incomprehensible  brave 
merely  placed  his  copper-colored  finger  upon  his  burnt- 
umber  nose  and  winked  solemnly  with  his  right  eye. 

The  trunk  was  carried  through  to  the  wigwam  of  Squat¬ 
ting  Bear  unopened,  and  within  the  precincts  of  his  home  it 
was  hidden  finally  from  view,  and  was  soon  entirely  forgotten. 

In  the  tribe  the  brave  who  killed  the  largest  number  of 
enemies  in  any  given  year  and  secured  the  usual  trophies  of 
victory  was  entitled  to  occupy  the  position  as  chief.  Squat¬ 
ting  Bear  was  known  to  have  ardent  aspirations  for  the  office, 
and  he  worked  hard  to  win  it.  For  a  while  after  his  return 
he  was  always  foremost  in  every  fight ;  and  when  the  scalps 


MYSTERIOUS  OCCURRENCES. 


321 


were  counted  around  the  camp-fire,  he  invariably  had  secured 
the  greatest  number.  Gradually,  however,  certain  of  the 
braves  were  impressed  with  the  notion  that  Squatting’s 
trophies  sometimes  did  not  bear  a  very  correct  proportion  to 
the  ferocity  of  the  contest  or  to  the  number  of  the  slain. 
Several  times,  after  a  brief  skirmish  in  which  ten  or  fifteen 
men  were  killed,  Squatting  would  come  sidling  home  with  as 
many  scalps  as  there  were  dead  men ;  and  at  the  same  time 
the  other  warriors  would  together  have  nearly  as  many  more. 

The  braves  thought  it  was  queer,  but  they  did  not  give  the 
subject  very  serious  attention  until  after  the  massacre  of  a 
certain  band  of  emigrants  which  had  passed  close  by  the 
camp  of  the  tribe.  There  were  just  twenty  persons  in  the 
company,  and  after  the  butchery  several  Indians  took  the 
trouble  to  count  the  bodies  and  to  keep  tally  with  a  butcher- 
knife  upon  the  side  of  a  chip.  That  night,  when  the  scalps 
were  numbered,  each  brave  had  one  or  two  apiece,  but 
Squatting  Bear  handed  out  exactly  forty-seven  of  the  most 
beautiful  bunches  of  human  hair  that  had  ever  been  seen  west 
of  the  Mississippi.  The  braves  looked  cross-eyed  at  each 
other  and  cleared  their  throats.  Two  of  their  number  stole 
out  to  the  battlefield  for  the  purpose  of  counting  the  bodies 
again,  and  of  ascertaining  if  this  had  been  a  menagerie  with 
a  few  double-headed  persons  in  the  party. 

Yes,  there  lay  exactly  twenty  corpses,  and,  to  make  mat¬ 
ters  worse,  one  of  them  was  a  bald-headed  man  who,  for 
additional  security  to  his  scalp,  had  run  a  skate-strap  over 
his  head  and  buckled  it  under  his  chin. 

When  they  returned,  the  entire  camp  devoted  itself  to 
meditation  and  calculation. 

Twenty  men  killed  and  forty-seven  scalps  in  the  possession 
of  a  single  Indian,  without  counting  those  secured  by  other 
participants  in  the  contest!  The  more  the  warriors  pondered 
over  this  fact,  the  more  perplexing  it  became.  A  brave. 


322 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


while  eating  his  supper  and  reflecting  upon  the  problem, 
would  suddenly  imagine  he  saw  his  way  clear,  and  he  would 
stop,  with  his  mouth  full  of  baked  dog,  and  fix  his  eyes  upon 
the  wall  and  think  desperately  hard.  But  the  solution 
invariably  eluded  him.  Then  all  of  them  would  glide  behind 
their  wigwams  and  perform  abstruse  mathematical  calcula¬ 
tions  upon  their  fingers,  and  they  would  get  sticks  and  jam 
the  points  into  the  sand  and  do  hard  sums  out  of  their  abor¬ 
iginal  arithmetic.  And  they  would  tear  around  through  the 
Indian  rule  of  three,  and  struggle  through  their  own  kind 
of  vulgar  fractions,  and  wrestle  with  something  that  they 
believed  to  be  a  multiplication  table.  But  in  vain.  Forty- 
seven  scalps  off  twenty  heads!  It  seemed  incredible  and 
impossible. 

They  tried  it  with  algebra,  and  let  the  number  of  heads 
equal  x  and  the  number  of  scalps  equal  y,  and  they  multi¬ 
plied  x  into  y  and  subtracted  every  letter  in  the  alphabet  in 
succession  from  the  result  until  their  brains  reeled ;  but  still 
the  mystery  remained  unsolved. 

At  last  a  secret  council  was  held,  and  it  was  determined 
that  Squatting  Bear  must  have  some  powerful  and  wonderful 
charm  which  enabled  him  to  perform  such  miracles,  and  all 
hands  agreed  to  investigate  the  matter  upon  the  first  oppor¬ 
tunity.  So  the  next  week  there  was  another  fight,  in  which 
four  persons  were  killed,  and  that  night  Squatting  actually 
had  the  audacity  to  rush  out  one  hundred  and  eighty-seven 
scalps,  and  to  ask  those  benighted  savages,  sitting  around 
their  fire,  to  believe  that  he  had  snatched  all  that  hair  from 
those  four  heads. 

It  was  too  much — much  too  much ;  they  seized  him  and 
drove  a  white  oak  stake  through  his  bosom  to  hold  him  still, 
and  then  they  proceeded  to  his  wigwam  to  ascertain  how  that 
scalp  business  was  conducted  by  the  Bear  family.  They 
burst  open  the  Saratoga  trunk  the  first  thing,  and  there  they 


A  COMMITTEE  ON  SCALPS . 


323 


found  fifteen  hundred  wigs  and  a  keg  of  red  paint,  purchased 
by  the  disgraceful  aboriginal  while  in  Philadelphia. 

That  concluded  his  career.  They  buried  him  at  once  in 
the  Saratoga  trunk,  and  the  wigs  with  him ;  and  ever  since 
that  time  they  have  elected  annually  a  committee  on  scalps, 
whose  business  it  is  to  examine  every  hirsute  trophy  with  a 
double-barreled  microscope  of  nine  hundred  diameters. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


A  Certain  Remarkable  Book — A  Few  Suggestions  Respect¬ 
ing  Boston — Delusions  of  Childhood — Bullying  Gen- 

i 

eral  Gage — Judge  Pitman  and  the  Catechism — An  Ex¬ 
traordinary  Blunder — The  Facts  in  the  Case  of  Hille- 
gass — A  False  Alarm. 

TILE  I  was  helping  one  of  my 
youngsters  a  night  or  two  ago 
to  master  a  tough  little  prob¬ 
lem  in  his  arithmetic,  I  picked 
up  the  history  that  he  had 
been  studying,  and  as  he  went 
off  to  bed  with  the  other  tiny 
travelers  up  the  hill  of  know¬ 
ledge,  I  looked  through  the 
volume.  It  was  Goodrich’s 
History  of  the  United  States, 
for  the  use  of  beginners ;  and 
it  had  a  very  familiar  ap¬ 
pearance.  I  gained  my  first 
glimpse  of  the  past  from  this 
very  book ;  and  not  only  could  I  remember  the  text  as  I 
turned  over  the  leaves,  but  the  absurd  pictures  of  General 
Washington  and  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis,  the  impossi¬ 
ble  portraits  of  John  Smith  and  Benjamin  Franklin,  and 
the  unnatural  illustration  of  the  manner  in  which  the  Pil¬ 
grim  Fathers  landed,  seemed  like  respectable  old  acquaint¬ 
ances  whom  I  had  known  and  admired  in  happier  days. 

The  man  who  can  find  one  of  the  books  that  he  studied 


324 


THE  VIRTUES  OF  BOSTON. 


325 


when  he  was  a  child  at  school  will  experience  a  pleasant 
sensation  if  he  will  open  it  and  look  over  its  pages.  It  will 
recall  some  delightful  memories,  and  bring  him  very  close 
again  to  the  almost  forgotten  time  when  that  wretched 
little  book  was  to  him  the  mightiest  literary  achievement  in 
existence.  For  this  reason  I  love  Goodrich’s  History;  and 
I  will  continue  to  regard  it  with  affection  even  though  my 
judgment  may  not  give  it  approval  as  a  work  of  very  re¬ 
markable  excellence. 

When  Mrs.  Adeler  descended,  after  tucking  the  weary 
scholars  comfortably  in  bed,  I  directed  her  attention  to 
these  facts,  and  to  some  of  the  peculiarities  of  Goodrich’s 
effort : 

“  This  little  book,  Mrs.  A.,  first  unlocked  for  me  the  door 
of  history.  It  is  a  history  of  the  United  States ;  and  as  it  was 
written  by  a  man  w7ho  lived  in  Boston  and  believed  in  Bos¬ 
ton,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  in  my  childhood  I 
obtained  from  the  volume  the  impression  that  our  beloved 
native  land  consisted  chiefly  of  Boston.  I  do  not  wish  to 
revile  that  city.  It  is  in  many  respects  a  model  municipality. 
It  is,  I  think,  better  governed  than  any  other  large  commu¬ 
nity  in  the  land,  it  has  greater  intellectual  force  than  any 
of  our  cities,  and  its  people  have  a  stronger  and  more  de¬ 
monstrative  civic  pride.  In  Boston  the  best  men  are  usually 
at  the  front,  and  the  conduct  of  public  affairs  is  not  en¬ 
trusted,  as  it  is  in  Philadelphia  and  other  cities,  to  black¬ 
guardly  politicians  whom  a  respectable  man  would  not  ad¬ 
mit  to  his  house,  and  who  maintain  themselves  in  power  by 
fraudulent  elections  and  by  stealing  the  people’s  money. 
Every  Boston  man  believes  in  the  greatness  of  his  city,  and 
is  proud  of  it.  That  is  an  excellent  condition  of  public  sen¬ 
timent,  and  we  may  pardon  it  even  if  it  does  sometimes  pro¬ 
duce  results  that  are  slightly  ridiculous. 

“  Goodrich  was  wrhat  might  be  called  an  excessive  Boston 


326 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


man,  and  his  little  history  is  very  apt,  unintentionally,  to 
convey  erroneous  impressions  to  the  infant  mind.  In  my 
early  boyhood,  being  completely  saturated  with  Goodrich,  I 
Chtertained  an  indistinct  idea  that  the  eye  of  Columbus 
rested  upon  Boston  long  before  any  other  object  appeared 
above  the  horizon,  and  somehow  I  cherished  a  conviction 
that  the  natives  who  greeted  him  and  bowed  down  at  his 
feet  were  men  who  inhabited  Bunker  Hill  Monument  and 
disported  themselves  perpetually  among  the  chambers  of 
Faneuil  Hall.  I  never  doubted  that  every  important  event 
in  our  annals,  from  the  landing  of  those  unpleasant  old 
Puritans  of  the  Mayflower  down  to  the  election  of  Andrew 
Jackson,  occurred  in  Boston,  and  was  attributable  entirely 
to  the  remarkable  superiority  of  the  people  of  that  city.  I 
scoffed  at  the  theory  that  John  Smith  was  in  Virginia  at  the 
time  of  his  salvation  by  Pocahontas,  and  I  was  even  disposed 
to  regard  the  account  of  the  signing  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  at  Philadelphia  as  a  sort  of  an  insignificant 
‘side  show’  which  should  have  been  alluded  to  briefly  in  a 
foot-note.  I  honestly  believed  that  the  one  great  mistake  of 
George  Washington’s  life  was  that  he  was  born  elsewhere 
than  in  Boston,  and  I  felt  that,  however  hard  such  retribu¬ 
tion  might  appear,  he  deserved  to  be  considered  a  little  less 
great  on  account  of  that  error. 

“As  for  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  I  could  not  doubt,  while 
I  maintained  my  faith  in  Goodrich,  that  it  was  begun  by  the 
high-spirited  citizens  of  Boston  in  consequence  of  the  wrongs 
inflicted  upon  them  by  that  daring  and  impious  monarch 
King  George  III.  It  wras  equally  clear  that  the  conflict  was 
carried  on  only  by  the  people  of  Boston,  and  that  the  victory 
was  won  at  last  because  of  the  valor  displayed  by  the  citizens 
of  that  community. 

“  In  my  opinion,  and  apparently  in  the  opinion  of  Good¬ 
rich,  the  leading  event  of  the  war  was  that  related  in  chap- 


THE  CALL  ON  GAGE. 


327 


ter  eighty-five.  The  aitory  occupies  the  whole  chapter. 
The  historian  evidently  intended  that  the  youthful  mind, 
while  meditating  upon  the  most  important  episode  of  the 
dreadful  struggle,  should  not  be  disturbed  by  minor  matters. 
Chapter  eighty-five  relates  that  certain  British  soldiers  de¬ 
molished  snow  hills  that  had  been  constructed  by  some  boys 
upon  Boston  Common,  a  hallowed  spot  which  Goodrich  taught 
me  to  regard  as  the  pivotal  point  of  the  universe.  The  boys 
determined  to  call  upon  General  Gage,  and  to  protest  against 
this  brutal  outrage  committed  by  the  hireling  butchers  of  a 
bloated  despot.  Now  listen  while  I  read  the  account  of  that 
interview  as  it  is  given  by  Goodrich : 

“General  Gage  asked  why  so  many  children  had  called 
upon  him.  ‘We  come,  sir/  said  the  tallest  boy,  ‘to  demand 
satisfaction/  ‘What!’ said  the  general;  ‘ have  your  fathers 
been  teaching  you  rebellion,  and  sent  you  to  exhibit  it  here?’ 
‘Nobody  sent  us,  sir/  answered  the  boy,  while  his  cheek  red¬ 
dened  and  his  eye  flashed.  ‘  We  have  never  injured  nor  in¬ 
sulted  your  troops ;  but  they  have  trodden  down  our  snow- 
hills  and  broken  the  ice  on  our  skating-ground.  We  com¬ 
plained,  and  they  called  us  young  rebels,  and  told  us  to  help 
ourselves  if  wTe  could.  We  told  the  captain  of  this,  and  he 
laughed  at  us.  Yesterday  our  works  were  destroyed  the 
third  time,  and  we  will  bear  it  no  longer/  General  Gage 
looked  at  them  a  moment  in  silent  admiration,  and  then  said 
to  an  officer  at  his  side,  ‘  The  very  children  here  draw  in  a 
love  of  liberty  with  the  air  they  breathe/ 


“  The  story  of  this  event,  which  shaped  the  destinies  of  a 
great  nation  and  gave  liberty  to  a  continent,  I  learned  by 
heart.  Many  and  many  a  night  have  I  lain  awake  wishing 
that  Philadelphians  would  organize  another  war  with  Great 
Britain,  so  that  British  soldiers  could  come  over  and  batter 
down  a  snow  hill  that  I  would  build  in  Independence  Square. 
I  felt  certain  that  I  should  go  at  once,  in  such  an  event,  to 

see  the  general,  and  should  overwhelm  him  with  another 
27 


328 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


outburst  of  fiery  indignation.  It  seemed  rather  hard  that 
Philadelphia  boys  should  never  have  a  chance  to  surpass  the 
boys  of  Boston.  But  still  I  could  not  help  admiring  those 
young  braves  and  regarding  them  as  the  real  authors  of 
American  independence.  I  was  well  assured  that  if  that 
‘tallest  boy’  had  not  entered  the  general’s  room  and  flashed 
his  eye  at  Gage  all  would  have  been  lost ;  the  country  would 
have  been  ground  beneath  the  iron  heel  of  the  oppressor, 
and  Americans  would  have  been  worse  than  slaves.  Per¬ 
haps  it  did  me  no  harm  to  believe  all  this ;  but  it  seems  to 
me  that  we  might  as  well  instruct  children  properly  to  be¬ 
gin  with.  Therefore  I  shall  give  our  boy,  Agamemnon, 
some  private  lessons  in  history  to  supplement  the  wisdom  of 
Goodrich.” 

Just  as  I  had  concluded  my  remarks,  Judge  Pitman  came 
in  to  ask  me  to  let  him  look  at  the  evening  paper  which  I 
had  brought  with  me  from  the  city.  I  explained  to  him  the 
nature  of  the  subject  that  had  been  considered,  and  the  judge, 
as  usual,  had  something  to  say  about  it. 

“  Do  you  know,”  he  observed,  “  that  them  school-books 
that  they  make  now-a-days  is  perfectly  bewilderin’  to  a  man 
like  me  ?  When  I  went  to  school,  we  learned  nothin’  but 
readin’,  writin’  and  arithmetic.  But  now — well,  they’ve  got 
clear  past  me.  I  could  no  more  rassle  with  the  learnin’  they 
have  at  the  schools  now  than  a  babe  unborn.” 

“  To  what  special  department  of  learning  do  you  refer  ?” 
I  inquired. 

“  Oh,  all  of  ’em,  all  of  ’em.  I  had  a  verycur’ous  experience 
with  one  o’  them  books  once,”  said  the  judge,  with  a  laugh. 
“  Some  years  ago  I  took  a  notion  to  jine  the  church,  an’  they 
give  me  the  catechism  to  learn  afore  I  could  git  in.  When 
I  got  home,  I  laid  the  book  away  on  the  shelf,  an’  didn’t  go 
for  it  for  two  or  three  days.  When  I  was  ready  to  study  it 
up,  I  reached  down  what  I  thought  was  the  catechism,  an’ 


THE  JUDGE  IS  CATECHISED. 


329 


I  was  kinder  surprised  to  see  that  it  was  called  ‘Familiar 
Science.’  You  understand  it  was 
a  book  my  daughter  had  been 
learnin’  at  school.  But  I  knowed  I  )|j 
no  better.  I  never  paid  no  jj 
’tention  to  religion  afore;  an’  -g 
although  it  struck  me  as  sorter  Jf 
queer  that  a  catechism  should 
have  such  questions  and  answers  £ 
in  it,  I  thought  the  church  peo¬ 
ple  that  give  me  the  book  must 
know  what  was  right,  so  I  said 
nothin’  an’  went  to  work  at  it.” 

“  How  did  you  succeed  ?” 

“  Oh,  putty  good.  I  learned 
three  or  four  pages  by  heart,  an’  I  thought  that  was  ’bout 
enough.  So  after  while  the  minister  an’  the  rest  come  ’round 
an’  begun  examinin’  me.  I  noticed  that  the  questions  kinder 

didn’t  fit  in,  but  I  did  my 
best;  an’  when  they’d  ask 
me  about  the  Scripters,  I’d 
jam  in  somethin’  about  car¬ 
bonic  acid  gas,  an’  when 
they  inquired  about  the  whole 
duty  of  man,  I  desp’rately 
give  ’em  somethin’  relatin’  to 
the  functions  of  lightnin’- 
rods.” 

“You  must  have  astonish¬ 
ed  them.” 

You  never  seen  men  wuss  bewildered,”  replied  the  judge ; 
“  but  I  think  I  really  skeered  ’em  when  they  asked  me  about 
Solomon’s  temple,  an’  I  lit  out  with  an  answer  referrin’  to 
smoky  chimneys.  They  thought  I  was  insane.  But  when 


330 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


I  pulled  out  the  book  an’  showed  it  to  ’em,  the  preacher 
laughed  an’  told  me  about  the  mistake.  Then  we  hunted 
up  the  catechism  an’  got  the  thing  straight.  The  church 
folks  had  the  laugh  on  me  for  a  while,  but  I  didn’t  mind  it. 
An’  it  was  pretty  fair  for  a  joke,  wasn’t  it  ?” 

“  Excellent.” 

“  But  I  got  a  better  one  on  at  least  one  of  them  fellers. 
Doctor  Brindley  was  on  the  examinin’  committee,  an’  he 
run  me  harder  than  any  of  ’em  about  it.  Well,  sir —  Do 
you  know  old  Hillegass  ?” 

“  No ;  I  never  heard  of  him.” 

“  He  lives  out  yer  on  the  Wilmington  road.  Well,  sir, 


some  time  afore  that  Hillegass  was  putty  near  dead.  Jle  was 
the  wust  case  I  ever  seen.  Broken  down,  thin  an’  pale,  with 
no  appetite,  his  lungs  weak,  his  liver  good  for  nothin’,  his 
legs  full  of  rheumatics,  his  heart  affected  an’  his  head  achin’ 
with  neuralger,  I  really  believe  that  man  was  the  sickest 


HILLEGASS  RECOVERS. 


331 


human  bein’  that  ever  breathed  the  breath  of  life.  All  the 
doctors  in  the  country  had  a  shy  at  him  one  time  an’ 
another ;  an’  as  he  kep’  a-gettin’  wuss  an’  wuss,  they  made 
him  mad,  an’  he  wouldn’t  pay  their  bills.” 

“  He  was  not  much  to  blame  for  that.” 

“Certainly  not.  Well,  one  day  them  doctors  met,  an’ 
after  talkin’  the  thing  over  they  agreed  not  to  go  to  Hille- 
gass’s  again  unless  he  settled  up,  you  understand.  They 
said,  ‘  Now  we’ll  let  Hillegass  die ;  we’ve  fooled  with  him 
long  enough.  He’s  either  got  to  pay  or  perish.  No  more 
Hillegass  for  us  unless  we  see  some  cash.’  So  for  about  a 
year  they  let  him  alone ;  an’  whenever  one  of  ’em  would 
drive  past  the  house,  he  would  pull  up  for  a  minute,  look 
to  see  if  there  was  crape  on  the  door,  an’  then  go  on,  shakin’ 
his  head  an’  sayin’,  ‘  Poor  Hillegass !  the  stingy  old  fool’s 
not  long  for  this  world.’  ” 

“  Did  he  die  ?” 

**  Die !  One  day  Dr.  Brindley  felt  kinder  sorry  for  Hille¬ 
gass,  an’  he  weakened  on  his  resolution.  So  he  called  at  the 
house  to  see  how  he  was  gittin’  on.  As  he  went  in  the  yard 
he  seen  a  stoutish  man  liftin’ 
a  bar’l  of  flour  in  a  waggin. 

When  the  man  got  the  bar’l 
in,  he  seen  the  doctor  an’  come 
for’ard.  The  doctor  thought 
he  knew  the  scar  on  the  man’s 
nose,  but  he  couldn’t  believe 
it.  Howsomedever,  it  was  old 
Hillegass,  well  an’  hearty  as 
a  buck,  an’  able  to  h’ist  the 
roof  off  the  barn  if  he’d  a 
mind  to.  You  understand 
that  I  had  a  very  soft  thing 

on  Brindley  jes’  then ;  an’  he 
27* 


332 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


never  seemed  to  take  no  furder  interest  in  the  catechism 
business  when  he  met  me.  An’  they  don’t  encourage 
doctors  much  out  that  way  now ;  no,  sir.  They  trust  to  luck 
an’  natur’,  which  in  my  opinion  is  the  best  way,  anyhow.” 

“  A  great  many  remarkable  things  seem  to  have  happened 
in  this  place,”  I  said. 

“Yes,”  responded  the  judge.  “You’d  hardly  think  it  of 
such  a  quiet  town  as  this  ’pears  to  be ;  but  somehow  there’s 
’most  always  somethin’  lively  goin’  on.  There  was  that  fuss 
’round  at  Dr.  Hopkins’s  a  couple  o’  year  ago ;  did  you  hear 
’bout  that?” 

“  Not  that  I  know  of.” 

“Well,  we’d  jes’  got  a  new  fire-engine  in  the 
town,  an’  the  men  that  run  her  thought  they’d 
play  a  little  joke  on  the  chief  of  the  depart¬ 
ment  by  rushin’  ’round  to  his  house  an’ 
pretendin’  it  was  afire.  By  a  most  unfort’nit 
circumstance,  the  chief  moved  out  of  the 
house  that  mornin’,  and  Dr. 

Hopkins  —  the  preacher,  you 
know — moved  in.  Them  fel¬ 
lers  come  a-peltin’  ’round  with 
the  engine,  an’  they  run  up 
their  ladders  an’  begun  a- 
playin’  on  the  roof  in  a  man¬ 
ner  that  skeered  the  Hopkinses 
nearly  to  death.  But  the 
other  fire  company  thought 
there  really  was  a  fire,  an’  they  come  out 
with  their  engine  an’  begun  to  squirt  on 
the  bouse.  The  others  tried  to  explain  how 
it  was,  but  the  new-comers  wouldn’t  believe  ’em,  an’  they 
kep’  a-pourin’  water  into  the  winders  an’  a  carryin’  on  like 
mad.  So  at  last  they  got  up  a  fight,  an’  they  fought  all 


PARKER  IS  VICTORIOUS. 


333 


over  the  house  au’  on  the  stairs  an’  up  an’  down  the 

entries,  until  Dr.  Hopkins 
was  putty  near  insane ;  an’ 
when  they  went  home,  he 
counted  up  about  two  hun¬ 
dred  dollars  damages, 
which  them  fellers  had  to 
pay.  Yes,  it  is  aston- 
ishin’  how  they  used  to 
keep  things  a-movin’  in 
this  town.  An’  now  I 
really  must  be  goin\  I’ll 
send  back  the  paper  the 
fust  thing  in  the  mornin’, 
for  certain.” 

The  judge  then  went 
home;  and  just  as  he 
passed  out  of  the  door  Bob  Parker  came  in  with  a  radiant 
countenance.  He  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  evidence 
that  was  needed  for  his  vindication. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


Settling  the  Business — Vindication  of  Mb.  Bob  Parker — 
A  Complete  Reconciliation — The  Great  Cooley  In¬ 
quest — The  Uncertainty  in  Regard  to  Thomas  Cooley 
— A  Phenomenal  Coroner — Profitable  Investigations — 
How  the  People  Prospered — The  Solution  of  the 
Mystery. 

.  PARKER  had  good  rea¬ 
son  for  exultation.  He  had 
in  his  possession  testimony 
which  exposed  and  com¬ 
pletely  defeated  the  wretch¬ 
ed  little  conspiracy  organ¬ 
ized  against  him  by  Smiley. 

“It  was  a  very  easy 
thing  to  settle  this  busi¬ 
ness,”  said  Bob.  “I  ex¬ 
plained  the  matter  to  the 
members  of  our  firm,  and 
they  not  only  gave  me  a  let¬ 
ter  containing  very  strong 
expressions  of  confidence  in 
me  and  denouncing  Stone- 
bury  as  a  wholly  untrustworthy  and  disreputable  person,  but 
they  insisted  that  I  should  make  Stonebury  confess.  Ac¬ 
cordingly,  a  member  of  the  firm  accompanied  me  while  I 
hunted  him  up.  We  found  that  he  had  a  clerkship  in  one 
of  the  municipal  offices,  and  we  called  to  see  him.  He 
turned  absolutely  white  when  he  saw  me,  and  looked  as  if 
he  would  like  to  beat  a  retreat.  But  we  went  at  him,  and 
334 


.4  WANT  OF  ENTHUSIASM. 


335 


threatened  that  if  he  did  not  acknowledge  in  writing  that  he 
had  maligned  me  we  would  prosecute  him  for  the  theft 
committed  while  he  was  engaged  at  the  store,  and  have  him 
ousted  from  his  present  position. 

“  He  came  down  at  once,  and  began  to  excuse  his  conduct 
upon  the  ground  that  Smiley  had  compelled  him  to  do  as  he 
did.  Then  he  made  a  written  confession  that  his  statements 
concerning  me  were  lies,  and  that  he  was  the  real  author  of 
the  letter  which  professed  to  come  from  Rev.  Hr.  Dewey. 
Here  it  is — here  are  both  letters;  and  I  propose  to  en¬ 
lighten  the  Magruder  intellect  with  them  this  very  night.” 

“Wouldn’t  it  be  better  to  wait  until  to-morrow?  It 
is  rather  late  now.” 

“  No,  sir.  I  intend  to  settle  the  affair  finally  and  for  ever 
before  I  go  to  bed.  I  have  been  waiting  long  enough.  Now 
I  am  going  to  enjoy  my  victory  without  further  delay.  Let’s 
go  around  there  at  once.” 

So  Bob  and  I  started  for  the  Magruder  mansion;  and  when 
we  reached  the  street,  he  strode  along  at  such  a  rapid  gait 
that  I  could  hardly  keep  up  with  him.  As  we 
approached  the  house  I  ventured  to  suggest  that 
the  dog  might  perhaps  be  at  large,  in  which 
event  I  thought  I  would  rather  remain  in  the 
drug  store  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  until 
he  returned. 

“  I  would  go  into  the  house,”  exclaimed  Bob, 

“  if  there  were  a  million  bloodhounds  tearing 
around  the  front  yard.” 

“  Well,  I  believe  I  wouldn’t.  I  have  less  en¬ 
thusiasm  than  you.  I  am  growing  old  and  cautious.  A 
much  smaller  quantity  of  bloodhound  would  restrain  what 
little  impetuosity  I  have.  Only  one  vigorous  bloodhound 
stationed  in  that  yard  and  betraying  a  disposition  to  exclude 
me  would  dampen  my  ardor.  I  should  go  home  at  oi^ce.” 


336 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


“  Magruder’s  dog  won’t  bite,”  said  Bob.  “  He  knows  me 
well,  and  we  needn’t  be  a  bit  afraid  of  him.” 

“Very  well,  I  will  run  the  risk;  but  if  any  accident  oc¬ 
curs,  I  shall  blame  you  for  it.  I  would  rather  you  should 
lose  your  lady-love  than  that  I  should  be  deprived  of  the 
use  of  my  legs.” 

“  And,  of  course,  I  wouldn’t.  But  come  along,  and  never 
mind  the  dog.” 

As  we  entered  the  gate  the  dog  was  there,  and  he  followed 
us  upon  the  porch,  still  manifesting  intense  eager¬ 
ness  to  sniff  our  trowsers.  It  is  remarkable  with 
what  carefulness  and  steadiness  a  man  walks 
under  such  circumstances.  I  would  not  have 
made  a  sudden  jump  or  a  quick  movement  of 
any  kind  for  a  valuable  consideration. 

When  we  entered  the  house,  Mr.  Magruder 
met  us,  and  we  went  with  him  into  the  library, 
where  Mrs.  Magruder  was  sitting  with  a  book  in  her  hand. 
We  obtained  a  glimpse  of  Bessie  as  she  vanished  through 
the  other  door  into  the  next  room ;  and  Bob  seemed  to  feel 
a  little  disappointed  that  she  had  not  remained.  Mr.  Ma¬ 
gruder  began  the  conversation  : 

“Well,  Mr.  Parker,  I  trust  you  have  been  successful  in 
your  efforts?” 

“  Yes,  sir,”  replied  Bob.  “  I  have  accomplished  all  that  I 
hoped  for.  I  have,  I  think,  procured  evidence  which  will 
vindicate  me  completely  and  prove  that  I  have  been  grossly 
slandered.” 

“  I  hope  this  is  the  case,”  said  Mr.  Magruder.  “  What  is 
the  nature  of  your — ” 

“  Here  are  two  letters.  This  one  is  from  one  of  my  em« 
ployers.  The  other  is  written  by  Samuel  Stonebury,  a  maD 
whose  name  at  least  is  known  to  you.” 

Magruder  took  the  papers  and  read  them  aloud,  so  that 


RECONCILED. 


337 


his  wife  might  obtain  the  information  supplied  by  them. 
Then,  as  he  slowly  folded  them  up,  he  said : 

“  Mr.  Parker,  this  does  indeed  seem  to  be  conclusive.  I 
blame  myself  very  much  for  having  reposed  confidence  in 
Smiley  and  in  his  villainous  friend,  but  more  than  all  be¬ 
cause  I  treated  you  as  if  you  were  guilty  before  I  heard  you 
in  your  own  defence.  I  owe  you  a  very  humble  apology,  sir, 
and  I  now  make  it.  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me and  Ma- 
gruder  extended  his  hand. 

“  I  believed  in  you  from  the  first,”  said  Mrs.  Magruder. 

“And  I  thank  you  for  it,”  replied  Bob. 

“  I  suppose  Bessie  might  as  well  Come  in  now,  my  dear,” 
said  Mr.  Magruder. 

“  Certainly,”  replied  his  wife,  and  she  called  Bessie. 

Bessie  had  evidently  been  listening  upon  the  other  side  of 
the  door,  for  she  entered  instantly,  with  her  smiling  face  rosy 
with  blushes.  Bob  merely  took  her  hand,  and  stood  by  her 
looking  as  if  he  would  like  to  indulge  in  a  tenderer  demon¬ 
stration.  Then  I  announced  my  intention  to  go  home,  and 
as  I  did  so  Bob  said  he  believed  he  would  stay  a  little 
longer.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Magruder  came  out  with  me  into  the 
hall  to  say  good-bye,  and  as  the  library -door  closed  I  thought 
I  heard  the  sound  of  a  kiss.  I  hope  the  old  people  went  into 
the  parlor  or  retired  to  bed  after  my  departure.  There  had 
been  a  cruel  separation  of  the  two  lovers,  and  a  good  deal  of 
genuine  suffering,  at  least  upon  Bessie’s  part,  and  it  was  but 
fair  that  they  should  have  a  chance  to  enjoy  to  the  very  ut¬ 
most,  without  the  intrusion  of  another  person,  the  bliss  of 
that  reunion. 

Upon  the  day  following  this  reconciliation  Smiley  was  in 
town,  and  he  called  at  Magruder’s.  The  old  gentleman  saw 
him  coming,  and  met  him  at  the  door.  In  reply  to  Smiley’s 
salutation  Magruder  looked  sternly  at  him,  and  after  telling 
him  that  his  villainy  had  been  exposed,  the  indignant  man 


m 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


ordered  the  lieutenant  to  leave  his  house  and  never  to  enter 
it  again.  Smiley  turned  upon  his  heel  and  slunk  away. 
We  have  probably  seen  the  last  of  him ;  and  just  as  he  has 
disappeared  we  have  learned  that  he  is  likely  to  be  cashiered 
from  the  army  for  bad  conduct.  His  brother  officers  at  the 
fort  have  discovered  his  true  character  just  as  it  has  been 
revealed  to  us. 

This  rambling  narrative  would  not  deserve  to  be  received 
as  a  faithful  record  of  events  that  have  occurred  in  our  neigh¬ 
borhood  if  it  should  fail  to  include  an  account  of  the  extra¬ 
ordinary  circumstances  attending  what  is  known  here  as 
“  The  Great  Cooley  Inquest.”  The  story  of  that  remark¬ 
able  business  must  be  given  even  if  it  shall  be  introduced 
with  abruptness. 

My  neighbor  William  Cooley  had  a  brother  named 
Thomas,  who  lived  at  a  place  called  Vandyke,  in  New 
Castle  county.  Thomas  Cooley  was  in  some  respects  a 
very  remarkable  man.  He  was  gifted  with  genius,  but  it 
was  genius  of  an  impracticable  kind.  He  was  an  inventor, 
and  during  the  later  years  of  his  life  he  devoted  all  his 
time  to  the  work  of  constructing  surprising  machines  which 
would  never  do  anything  when  they  were  constructed. 

Down  at  the  patent-office  they  got  so  at  last  that  when  a 
new  model  and  specifications  would  come  along  from  Cooley, 
the  commissioner  and  clerks  would  grant  him  a  patent  on  the 
spot,  for  they  knew,  from  a  rich  and  generous  experience, 
that  when  Cooley  invented  anything  it  was  perfectly  certain 
to  be  unlike  any  other  contrivance  ever  conceived  by  the 
mind  of  fallen  man;  and  they  were  aware,  at  any  rate,  that 
nobody  who  was  sane  enough  to  be  at  large  would  ever  want 
to  interfere  with  Cooley’s  exclusive  right  to  pin  together 
such  a  bewildering  and  useless  lot  of  cranks  and  axles  and 
wheels.  I  think  Cooley  had  about  two  hundred  patents  of 


AN  EXPLOSION 


339 


♦ 


various  kinds ;  and  besides  the  machines  and  dodges  thus 
protected  by  the  law,  he  owned  scores  of  others 
which  were  never  heard  of  in  Washington  or 
anywhere  else  but  at  Cooley’s  home. 

had  a  kind  of  “  den”  of  his  own  in 
the  garret.  He  used  to  shut  himself  up  in 
this  for  hours  together  while  he  perfected  his 
inventions  or  conducted  his  chemical  investi¬ 
gations.  His  last  idea  was  that  he  could  put 
together  a  compound  which  would  rule  gun¬ 
powder  out  of  the  market,  and  make  the  de¬ 
struction  of  armies  and  navies  comparatively 
easy.  And  so,  for  a  time,  Mrs.  Cooley,  while 
bustling  about  in  the  vicinity  of  the  den,  in¬ 
stead  of  hearing  the  buzz  and  hum  of  wheels 
and  the  click  of  the  hammer,  would  sniff  ter¬ 
rific  smells,  evolved  by  the  irrepressible  Cooley 
from  the  contents  of  his  laboratory.  And  one 
day  there  came  a  fearful  explosion.  The  roof 
was  torn  off  and  reduced  to  splinters,  and  Thomas  Cooley  had 
disappeared. 

Vandyke,  as  I  have  said,  is  in  New  Castle  county,  Dela¬ 
ware,  but  it  is  also  close  to  the  boundary  line  between  Dela¬ 
ware  and  the  counties  of  Cecil  and  Kent,  in  Maryland. 

And  so  it  was  not  surprising  when,  a  few  minutes  after  the 
explosion,  persons  in  all  three  of  the  counties  perceived  frag¬ 
ments  of  a  demoralized  and  disintegrated  human  being 
tumbling  from  the  air.  The  pieces  of  the  unhappy  vic¬ 
tim  of  the  disaster  were  unevenly  distributed  between  New 
Castle,  Cecil  and  Kent.  The  first  named  got  twelve  of  the 
fragments.  There  were  persons  who  thought  Cooley  might 
have  showed  even  greater  partiality  for  his  own  county, 
but  I  do  not  blame  him ;  he  was  in  a  measure  controlled 

by  circumstances. 

28 


340  OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 

I  think  the  friends  of  the 
coroner  complained  with 
greatest  bitterness.  He  was 
an  enthusiastic  coroner. 
He  had  been  known,  when 
one  of  Dr.  Tobias  Jones’s 
relatives  returned  from 
Egypt  wTith  a  mummy  em¬ 
balmed  fifteen  hundred  years 
before  the  Christian  era,  to 
seize  that  ancient  subject  of 
Pharaoh  and  summon  a 
jury,  and  sit  upon  it,  and 
brood  over  it  and  think. 
And  it  is  rumored  that  he 
put  that  jury  up  to  bringing 
in  a  verdict,  “  The  death  of  the  deceased  ensued  from  cause  or 
causes  unknown,  at  the  hands  of  persons  also  unknown.” 
His  enemies  at  the  next  election  openly  asserted  that  he 
charged  the  county  with  the  usual  fee,  with  compound  in¬ 
terest  from  the  time  of  Moses. 

So  of  course  when  Thomas  Cooley  went  up,  he  wasn’t 
sorry ;  and  the  more  Cooley  was  scattered  over  New  Castle 
county,  the  more  serene  and  affable  the  coroner  felt.  When 
he  had  selected  his  jury  and  looked  around  him  a  little  in 
order  to  command  the  situation,  he  perceived  that  Cooley 
had  put  into  his  hands  a  tolerably  good  thing.  The  coroner 
spent  the  next  three  days  holding  an  inquest  upon  each  of 
the  twelve  fragments  of  the  deceased.  He  empaneled  a  new 
jury  every  time,  and  then  proceeded  cautiously  and  delib¬ 
erately  in  each  case. 

There  was  by  no  means  complete  unanimity  of  opinion. 
The  first  jury  decided  that  “  the  deceased  met  his  death  by 
being  struck  by  something  sudden.”  The  second  one  ad- 


THE  CORONER  IS  SUAVE. 


341 


vanced  the  theory  that  “  Thomas  Cooley  was  surreptitiously 
and  insidiously  blowed  apart.”  The  others  threw  out  sug¬ 
gestions  respecting  the  probability  that  the  trouble  came 
from  Cooley’s  well-known  weakness  for  flying  machines,  or 
from  his  being  lifted  out  and  cut  up  by  some  kind  of  a  hur¬ 
ricane.  Once  the  jury  decided  not  to  bring  in  a  verdict,  but 
merely  to  pass  resolutions  of  regret. 

And  the  coroner  would  sit  there  over  the  particular  piece 
of  Cooley  in  question,  and  smile  and  permit  these  manifesta¬ 
tions  of  generous  feeling  to  have  full  play.  It  didn’t  per¬ 
plex  him  that  all  the  verdicts  differed.  “Truth,”  he  re¬ 
marked  to  a  friend,  “  is  well  enough.  But  as  Cooley  is  cer¬ 
tainly  dead,  what’s  the  odds  if  we  can’t  agree  as  to  what 
killed  him  ?  Let  us  collect  our  fees  and  yield  with  Christian 
resignation  to  destiny.” 

It  was  always  interesting  to  me  to  hear  that  coroner  con¬ 
verse  upon  the  subject  of  resignation.  He  would  rather  have 
died  than  to  have  resigned  while  any  of  the  Cooleys  were  in 
town  inventing  explosive  compounds. 

The  Cecil  county  coroner  discovered  six  pieces  of  the  de¬ 
ceased  within  his  jurisdiction,  but  his  pride  would  not  permit 
him  to  yield  the  supremacy  in  such  a  matter  to  his  rival  over 
the  line.  The  New  Castle  man  had  twelve  inquests,  and  so 
would  he,  with  more  besides.  And  his  juries  used  to  go  out 
and  consult  and  come  in  after  a  while  with  a  majority  report, 
declaring,  perhaps,  that  deceased  was  killed  by  fooling  with 
some  sort  of  a  gun,  and  a  minority  report  insist¬ 
ing  that  he  had  been  murdered  and  dissected  by 
a  medical  student  or  students  unknown. 

And  then  the  coroner  would  disband  the  in¬ 
quest  and  drum  up  a  fresh  jury,  which  would 
also  disagree,  until  out  of  those  six  fractions  of  poor  old 
Cooley  the  coroner  got  thirty-seven  deliberations,  with  the 
attendant  fees.  And  every  time  the  doctors  would  testify 


342 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


that  jjost-mortem  examinations  revealed  the  fact  that  the 
inside  of  the  deceased  was  crammed  with  fragments  of  the 
Latin  language ;  and  invariably  the  jurors  would  sit  there 
and  try  to  look  as  if  they  understood  those  terms,  although 
a  dim  impression  prevailed  most  of  the  time  that  the  physi¬ 
cians  were  indulging  recklessly  in  profanity. 

And  when  a  relative  of  Cooley’s  testified  before  the  thirty- 
seventh  jury  that  “Thomas  Cooley  was  a  man  of  marked 
idiosyncrasies,  and  his  brain  was  always  excited  by  his  irre¬ 
sistible  fondness  for  chimeras  of  various  kinds,”  the  jury 
looked  solemn  and  immediately  brought  in  a  verdict  that 
“  death  was  caused  by  idiosyncrasies  forming  on  his  brain  in 
consequence  of  excessive  indulgence  in  chimeras,  thus  sup¬ 
plying  an  awful  warning  to  the  young  to  refrain  from  the 
use  of  that  and  other  intoxicating  beverages.” 

Only  two  pieces  fell  in  Kent  county,  but  the  coroner  was 
animated  by  even  greater  professional  enthusiasm  than  his 
neighbors  across  the  border.  He  spent  the  entire  season 
over  as  much  of  Cooley  as  he  could  reach.  All  his  juries 
but  one  disagreed,  and  he  had  eighty-four.  The  sixth  would 
have  been  unanimous  but  for  an  obstinate  man  named  Sel¬ 
fridge.  All  the  others  were  for  a  verdict  of  mysterious 
butchery,  but  Selfridge  insisted  upon  attributing  the  disaster 
to  nitro-glycerine.  So  earnest  wras  he  that  he  fought  over 

the  subject  with  a 
fellow-juryman 
named  Smith ;  and 
he  held  Smith  down 
and  remonstrated 
with  him,  and  show¬ 
ed  him  the  matter 
in  different  lights, 
and  bit  his  nose  to 
convince  Smith  that 


THE  UNCERTAINTY  ABOUT  COOLEY.  343 


the  nitroglycerine  hypothesis  was  correct.  And  when  the 
jury  was  dismissed,  Selfridge,  true  to  his  solemn  convictions, 
carried  the  war  into  the  papers,  and  published  an  obituary 
poem  entitled  “  A  Monody  on  the  Death  of  Thomas  Cooley,” 
in  which  he  presented  his  views  in  this  fashion : 

“  When  Cooley  got  his  glycerine  all  properly  adjusted, 

He  knocked  it  unexpectedly,  and  suddenly  it  busted ; 

And  when  it  reached  old  Thomas  C.,  he  got  up  quick  and  dusted, 
And  left  his  wife  and  family  disheartened  and  disgusted.” 

It  was  discovered  that  one  of  the  bones  of  the  deceased  had 
fallen  directly  across  the  boundary  line  between  Cecil  and 
Kent.  As  soon  as  the  fact  was  reported,  the  coroner  of 
Kent  rallied  a  jury  upon  his  end;  and  just  as  the  proceed¬ 
ings  were  about  to  begin,  the  Cecil  coroner  arrived  with  a 
jury  for  the  purpose  of  attending  to  his  share  of  the  work. 
While  the  authorities  of  Kent  mused  at  one  end  of  the  bone, 
the  jurymen  of  Cecil  reflected  at  the  other  end,  and  the  re¬ 


sult  was  that  each  brought  in  an  entirely  different  verdict. 
But  they  were  unanimous  on  the  question  of  the  collection 
of  fees. 

In  all  there  were  thirteen  or  fourteen  conflicting  verdicts 
rendered,  and  so  some  uncertainty  prevailed  as  to  the  pre¬ 
cise  cause  of  Cooley’s  death.  Men’s  minds  were  unsettled, 
and  their  conclusions  were  demoralized,  in  the  presence  of 
so  much  official  authority  of  an  indecisive  kind.  But  no¬ 
body  mourned  over  these  differences.  They  were  a  blessing 

for  the  people  of  the  counties.  Almost  every  man  in  the 
28* 


344 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


neighborhood  had  had  a  turn  at  Cooley’s  remains,  and  some 
of  them  had  served  on  the  juries  six  or  seven  times.  The 
farmers  all  bought  new  mowing-machines  that  spring  with 
their  fees.  The  doctors  collected  more  money  for  post-wiortevi 
examinations  than  they  would  have  done  in  a  time  of  an 
epidemic  of  small-pox  and  sudden  death.  People  fixed  up 
their  houses  and  paid  off  mortgages  and  laid  in  their  pork 
and  started  grocery  stores  and  gave  hops  out  of  the  profits 
of  Cooley’s  explosion.  And  there  were  men  who  cherished 
a  wish  that  Cooley  could  be  put  together  again  and  ex¬ 
ploded  once  a  month  for  the  next  decade.  But  that  of 
course  was  impossible. 


One  day,  when  the  tide  of  prosperity  was  at  its  height, 
the  widow  Cooley  perceived  a  wagon  driving  up  to  her 
door.  The  man  within  the  vehicle  dismounted,  and  un¬ 
loaded  four  pieces  of  iron  pipe  sixty  feet  long.  Presently 
another  wagon  arrived,  and  this  driver  also  unloaded  the 


COOLEY  TURNS  UP. 


345 


same  quantity  of  pipe.  Then  a  third  driver  arrived  and  did 
the  same  thing.  Then  a  fourth  came,  and  Mrs.  Cooley  saw 
a  man  in  it  with  a  queer-looking  object  by  him.  It  proved 
to  be  Thomas  Cooley  himself.  Thomas  had  been  up  to  the 
city  at  a  machine-shop  getting  up  a  working  model  of  a  new 
kind  of  a  patent  duplex  elliptic  artesian  pump ;  and  now  he 
was  home  again.  The  remains  scattered  over  the  counties 
were — so  Cooley  said — merely  a  lot  of  beef  with  which  he 
had  been  trying  to  make  a  new  kind  of  patent  portable  soup 
and  an  improved  imperishable  army  sausage ;  and  the  ex¬ 
plosion,  he  thought,  must  have  been  caused  by  spontaneous 
combustion. 

Thomas  Cooley  would  have  been  happy,  after  all,  but  for 
one  thing — everybody  outside  of  his  own  family  refused  to 
recognize  him  as  a  living  man.  If  he  was  willing  to  move 
about  in  the  community  in  the  character  of  an  unburied 
corpse,  the  people  would  agree  not  to  interfere  and  not  to 
insist  upon  his  burial ;  but  that  was  as  far  as  they  could  go 
conscientiously.  Their  duty  to  society,  their  obligations  to 
the  law,  compelled  them  to  reject  the  idea  that  he  was  any¬ 
thing  more  than  inanimate  remains.  He  was  officially  dead. 
The  fact  had  been  declared  under  oath  by  hundreds  of  jury¬ 
men,  and  it  was  registered  in  the  records  of  two  States  and 
three  counties.  The  testimony  was  overwhelmingly  against 
him.  To  admit  that  he  was  still  alive  would  be  dangerous, 
it  would  be  revolutionary.  The  foundations  of  society  would 
be  shaken,  the  majesty  of  the  law  would  suffer  insult,  the 
fabric  of  republican  government  would  be  undermined.  If 
a  being  who  was  legally  only  a  mere  cadaver  was  to  be  per¬ 
mitted  to  strut  out  into  daylight,  and  to  urge  incendiary 
theories  about  the  condition  of  his  vital  spark,  nothing  would 
be  safe ;  there  would  be  no  guarantee  that  the  cemeteries 
would  not  unload,  and  that  all  of  the  departed  would  not  be 
crowding  out  and  wanting  to  vote.  Besides,  if  it  was  ad- 


346 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


mitted  that  Cooley  was  yet  alive,  all  the  money  that  hud 
been  earned  by  the  jurymen,  all  the  fees  that  had  been 
charged  by  the  coroners,  would  have  to  be  returned  to  the 
county  treasuries.  The  people  were  aghast  at  the  thought. 
The  coroners  entered  into  a  solemn  compact  to  persist  in 
ignoring  Cooley  or  to  regard  him  merely  as  an  absurd  and 
very  indelicate  goblin  who  had  behaved  in  a  manner  wholly 
unworthy  of  a  ghost  with  gentlemanly  instincts.  They  de¬ 
clared  publicly  that  they  could  not  admit  that  Cooley  was 
alive  unless  there  should  be  a  general  resurrection  in  the 
States  of  Delaware  and  Maryland,  and  until  that  time 
arrived,  they  considered  that  the  best  thing  Cooley  could  do 
would  be  to  select  a  sepulchre  somewhere  and  creep  into  it 
and  behave. 

I  do  not  know  that  I  can  find  a  better  place  than  this 
to  insert  a  bundle  of  rhymes  which  I  have  at  hand.  The 
wholesale  slaughter  in  which  the  hero  and  heroine  indulge 
seems  to  entitle  the  poem  to  association  with  the  three  coro¬ 
ners  above  mentioned.  And  I  may  venture  to  remark  that 
not  one  of  the  officials  in  question  will  read  the  lines  without 
a  feeling  of  profound  regret  that  such  magnificent  opportu¬ 
nities  for  inquests  are  hardly  likely  to  be  presented  in  Mary¬ 
land  and  Delaware.  Our  New  Castle  coroner  would  ac¬ 
cumulate  millions  in  the  shape  of  fees  if  he  could  have  the 
privilege  of  summoning  juries  to  investigate  such  a  butchery 
as  this. 


A  Hindoo  Legend. 

There  was  a  Hindoo  maiden  once  on  India’s  coral  strand 
Who  had  some  forty  suitors  for  her  coffee-colored  hand. 
Her  father  was  a  Brahmin  of  aristocratic  caste 
Who  much  internal  revenue  in  dry  goods  had  amassed. 


A  HINDOO  LEGEND. 


347 


These  lovers  thought  it  would  be  nice  the  dusky  maid  to  wed, 

And  spend  the  rupees  lavishly  when  her  papa  was  dead. 

But  she  turned  up  her  nose  at  them — a  very  pretty  pug — 

Because  clandestinely  she  loved  an  elegant  young  Thug. 

This  Thug,  in  his  profession,  was  a  very  active  man; 

He  strangled  eighty  men  the  year  to  practice  he  began. 

But  as  the  maiden’s  father  had  no  taste  for  art  at  all, 

He  foolishly  disliked  the  Thug,  and  wouldn’t  let  him  call. 

And  then  she  loved  him  better  still,  as  always  is  the  case, 

And  so  she  met  him  daily  at  a  certain  trysting-place. 

Hand  in  hand  amid  the  verdant  fields  deliciously  they  strayed, 

Now  culling  fiowers,  now  strangling  little  children  as  they  played. 

• 

And  this  young  Thug,  one  afternoon,  he  kissed  the  maid  and  said, 

“  It  really  seems  to  me,  my  dear,  high  time  that  we  should  wed. 

And  as  your  guardians  to  me  so  seriously  object, 

’Twould  be  as  well  to  kill  them ;  I  can  do  it,  I  expect.” 

* 

Then  said  the  lovely  maiden,  with  a  sweet,  confiding  smile : 

“  I  go  for  chopping  of  them  up  in  most  effectual  style. 

And  as  my  marriage  simply  on  my  papa’s  death  depends, 

Why,  just  for  fun  we’ll  butcher  all  my  relatives  and  friends.” 

The  Thug  procured  a  hatchet,  and  the  maiden  got  a  knife; 

They  cut  and  slashed  the  Brahmin  till  he  was  bereft  of  life; 

Then  they  seized  the  loving  mother,  though  she  desperately  fought. 
And  crunched  her  aged  bones  beneath  the  car  of  Juggernaut. 

A  consecrated  lasso,  thrown  with  admirable  skill, 

Swiftly  roped  her  brother  in  and  choked  him  ’gainst  his  will. 

Her  sister’s  fair  young  form  was  hooked  upon  the  sacred  swing; 
And  flying  ’round  until  she  died,  she  screamed  like  everything. 

The  maiden  jabbed  the  knife  into  the  colored  coachman’s  brain, 
And  stabbed  her  uncle  William  and  her  aunt  Matilda  Jane. 

The  Thug  he  steeped  his  hatchet  in  the  chambermaiden’s  gore, 
And  with  a  skewer  pinned  the  cook  against  the  cellar  door. 

The  maiden  cut  her  grandpa  up  in  little  tiny  bits, 

And  scared  her  grandma  so  she  died  in  epileptic  fits. 


348 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


The  dry  nurse  with  the  clothes-line  was  serenely  strangled,  while 
They  tossed  the  little  baby  to  the  sacred  crocodile. 


And  when  the  fuss  wras  over,  said  the  maiden  to  the  Thug: 

“You’d  better  have  a  hole  within  the  cemetery  dug; 

And  let  the  undertaker  take  extraordinary  pains 
To  decently  inter  this  lot  of  mangled-up  remains.” 

And  when  the  usual  bitter  tears  were  at  the  funeral  shed. 

The  lovers  to  the  temple  went,  in  order  to  be  wed. 

The  priest  had  barbecued  a  man  that  day  for  sacrifice; 

They  cooked  him  with  the  cracklin’  on ;  with  gravy  brown  and  nice. 

The  chief  priest  asked  the  maiden,  when  the  services  began, 

If  her  papa  had  said  she  might  annex  this  fine  young  man? 

“Oh  no,”  she  said,  “my  loving  wish  he  foolishly  withstood, 

So  him  and  all  the  family  we  slaughtered  in  cold  blood.” 

“You  shock  me!”  said  the  pious  priest;  “your  conduct  makes  me 
sad  ; 

You  never  learned  at  Sunday-school  to  be  so  awful  bad. 

I’ve  told  you  often,  when  you  killed  a  person  anywhere. 

To  bring  the  body  to  that  old  nine-headed  idol  there ; 


A  HINDOO  LEGEND. 


349 


“The  great  Vishnu  is  suffering  for  victims  every  day, 

And  here  you  go  and  cut  them  up  and  throw  the  bones  away ! 
Extravagance  is  sinful ;  I  must  really  put  it  down  ; 

I’ve  half  a  mind  to  pull  the  string  and  make  the  idol  frown. 

“  I  must  punish  you  with  rigor  ;  and  I  order  that  you  two 
Instead  of  getting  married  shall  severest  penance  do.” 

So  on  a  piece  of  paper  then  he  scribbled  a  brief  word; 

The  lovers  as  they  left,  of  course,  felt  perfectly  absurd. 

The  Thug  then  read  the  order  o’er,  and  bursting  into  tears, 

He  said,  “  This  paper  realizes  my  unpleasant  fears. 

Upon  my  word,  my  sweetest  one,  it  really  chills  my  blood; 

I’ve  got  to  suffocate  you  in  the  Ganges’  holy  mud.” 

And  so  he  sadly  led  her  down  unto  the  river’s  bank, 

And  like  a  stone  into  the  cold,  religious  slime  she  sank. 

And  there  she  stuck  the  livelong  day,  and  all  the  following  night. 
Until  an  alligator  came  and  ate  her  at  a  bite. 

The  Thug  he  felt  exceeding  hurt  at  her  untimely  fate, 

But  his,  though  not  so  dreadful,  was  not  nice,  at  any  rate. 

The  priest,  in  his  fierce  anger,  had  condemned  him,  it  appears. 
To  stand  alone  upon  one  leg  for  forty-seven  years ! 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


An  Arrival — A  Present  from  a  Congressman — Meditations 
upon  his  Purpose — The  Patent  Office  Report  of  the 
Future — A  Plan  for  Revolutionizing  Public  Docu¬ 
ments  and  Opening  a  New  Department  of  Literature 
— Our  Trip  to  Salem — A  Tragical  Incident — The  Last 
of  Lieutenant  Smiley. 


VERY  mysterious  package 
came  to  me  through  the 
post-office  yesterday.  I 
brought  it  home  unopened, 
and,  as  is  usual  in  such 
cases,  we  began  to  specu¬ 
late  upon  the  nature  of 
the  contents  before  we 
broke  the  seals.  Every¬ 
body  has  a  disposition  to 
dally  for  a  while  with  a 
letter  or  a  package  from 
an  unknown  source.  Mrs. 
Adeler  felt  the  parcel 
carefully,  and  said  she 
was  sure  it  was  something 
from  her  aunt — something  for  the  baby,  probably.  Bob 
imagined  that  it  was  an  infernal  machine  forwarded  by  the 
revengeful  Stonebury,  and  he  insisted  that  I  should  put  it  to 
soak  in  a  bucket  of  water  for  a  few  hours  before  removing 
the  wrapper.  The  children  were  hopeful  that  some  benign 
fairy  had  adopted  this  method  of  supplying  the  Adeler 
350 


DELUSIONS  OF  CONGRESSMEN. 


351 


family  with  supernatural  confectionery ;  and  for  my  part, 
I  had  no  doubt  that  some  one  of  my  friends  among  the  pub¬ 
lishers  had  sent  me  half  a  dozen  of  the  latest  books. 

We  opened  the  bundle  gradually.  When  the  outside 
casing  was  torn  away,  another  envelope  remained,  and  as 
this  was  slowly  removed  the  excitement  and  curiosity  reached 
an  almost  painful  degree  of  intensity.  At  last  all  the  papers 
were  taken  off,  and  I  lifted  from  among  them  a  large  black 
volume.  It  was  only  a  patent-office  report  sent  to  me  by 
that  incorruptible  statesman  and  devoted  patriot,  the  Con¬ 
gressman  from  our  State. 

I  have  endeavored  to  conjecture  why  he  should  have 
selected  me  as  the  object  of  such  a  demonstration.  Cer¬ 
tainly  he  did  not  expect  me  to  read  the  report.  He  knows 
that  I,  as  a  man  of  at  least  ordinary  intelligence,  would  en¬ 
dure  torture  first.  I  cannot  think  that  he  hoped  to  pur¬ 
chase  my  vote  by  such  a  cheap  expedient.  Congressmen 
do,  I  believe,  still  cherish  the  theory  that  the  present  of  a 
patent-office  report  to  a  constituent  secures  for 
the  donor  the  fealty  of  the  recipient ;  but  it  is  a 
delusion.  Such  a  gift  fills  the  soul  of  an  unof¬ 
fending  man  with  gloomy  and  murderous 
thoughts.  Every  one  feels  at  times  as  if  he 
would  like  to  butcher  some  of  his  fellow-men ; 
and  my  appetite  for  slaughter  only  becomes 
keen  when  I  meet  a  Congressman  who  has  sent 
me  a  patent-office  report.  Neither  can  I  accept 
the  suggestion  that  my  representative  was  de¬ 
ceived  by  the  supposition  that  I  would  be  grateful  for  such 
an  intimation  that  an  eminent  man,  even  amid  the  oppressive 
cares  of  State,  has  not  forgotten  so  humble  a  worm  as  I.  He 
knows  me  well ;  and  although  I  am  aware  that  there  is  in 
Washington  a  prevalent  theory  that  a  wild  thrill  of  exulta¬ 
tion  agitates  the  heart  of  a  constituent  when  he  receives  a 
29 


352 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


public  document  or  a  flatulent  oration  from  a  lawmaker,  my 
Congressman  is  better  informed.  He  would  not  insult  me 
in  such  a  manner.  I  can  only  account  for  his  conduct  upon 
the  theory  that  he  misdirected  the  volume,  which  he  intended 
for  some  one  else,  or  upon  the  supposition  that  he  has  heard 
me  speak  of  the  necessity  for  the  occasional  bombardment 
of  Cooley’s  dog  at  night,  and  he  conceived  that  he  would  be 
helping  a  good  cause  by  supplying  me  with  a  new  and 
formidable  missile.  I  have  never  attacked  a  dog  with  a 
patent-office  report,  but  I  can  imagine  that  the  animal 
might  readily  be  slain  with  such  a  weapon.  A  projectile 
should  have  ponderosity;  and  a  patent-office  report  has 
more  of  that  quality  to  the  cubic  inch  than  any  other  object 
with  which  I  am  familiar.  Still,  I  do  not  care  to  tax  the 
treasury  of  the  United  States  for  material  with  which  to 
assail  Cooley’s  dog.  I  would  rather  endure  the  nocturnal 
ululations,  and  have  the  money  applied  to  the  liquidation 
of  the  national  debt. 

It  is,  however,  apparent  that  Congressmen  will  never 
surrender  the  patent-office  report ;  and  if  this  is  admitted, 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  man  who  succeeds  in  infusing  into 
those  volumes  such  an  amount  of  interest  that  people  will 
be  induced  to  read  them  will  have  a  right  to  be  regarded  as 
a  great  public  benefactor.  I  suppose  no  human  being  ever 
did  read  one  of  them.  It  is  tolerably  certain  that  any  man 
who  would  deliberately  undertake  to  peruse  one  from  be¬ 
ginning  to  end  would  be  regarded  as  a  person  who  ought 
not  to  be  at  large.  His  friends  would  be  justified  in  placing 
him  in  an  asylum.  I  think  I  can  suggest  a  method  by 
which  a  reform  can  be  effected.  It  is  to  take  the  material 
that  comes  to  hand  each  year  and  to  work  it  up  into  a  con¬ 
tinuous  story,  which  may  be  filled  in  with  tragedy  and  sen¬ 
timent  and  humor. 

For  instance,  if  a  man  came  prowling  around  the  patent- 


ALPHONSO  WAITS. 


353 


office  with  an  improvement  in  hayrakes,  I  should  name 
that  man  Alphonso  and  start  him  off  in  the  story  as  the 


abandoned  villain ;  Alphonso  lying  in  wait,  as  it  were,  be¬ 
hind  a  dark  corner,  for  the  purpose  of  scooping  his  rival  with 
that  improved  hay-rake.  And  then  the  hero 
would  be  a  man,  suppose  we  say,  who  desired 
an  extension  of  a  patent  on  accordeons.  I 
should  call  such  a  person  Lucullus,  and  plant 
him,  with  a  working  model  of  the  accordeon, 
under  the  window  of  the  boarding-house  where 
the  heroine,  Amelia,  who  would  be  a  woman 
who  had  applied  for  a  patent  on  a  new  kind 
of  red  flannel  frills,  lay  sleeping  under  the 
soothing  influence  of  the  tunes  squeezed  from 
the  accordeon  of  Lucullus. 

In  the  midst  of  the  serenade,  let  us  suppose,  in  comes  a 
man  who  has  just  got  out  some  extraordinary  kind  of  a  fowl¬ 
ing-piece  about  which  he  wants  to  interview  the  head  of  the 


354 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


4- 


department.  I  should  make  this  being  Amelia’s  father  and 
call  him  Smith,  because  that  name  is  full  of 
poetry  and  sweetness  and  wild,  unearthly 
music.  Then,  while  Lucullus  was  mashing 
out  delicious  strains,  I  might  make  Alphonso 
rush  on  Smith  with  his  hay-rake,  thinking  he 
was  Lucullus,  and  in  the  fight  which  would  perhaps  ensue 
Smith  might  blow  out  Alphonso’s  brains  somehow  on  the 
spot  by  a  single  discharge,  we  might  assume, 
of  Smith’s  extraordinary  fowling-piece,  while 
Lucullus  could  be  arrested  upon  the  suit  of 
the  composer  who  had  a  copyright  on  the 
tune  with  which  he  solaced  Amelia. 

If  any  ingenious  undertaker  should  haunt 
the  patent-office  at  this  crisis  of  the  story  with 
a  species  of  metallic  coffin,  I  might  lay  Al¬ 
phonso  away  comfortably  in  one  of  them  and 
have  a  funeral,  or  I  might  add  a  thrill  of  in¬ 
terest  to  the  narrative  by  resuscitating  him 
with  vegetable  pills,  in  case  any  benefactor 
of  the  race  should  call  to  secure  his  rights  as 
the  sole  manufacturer  of  such  articles.  In 
the  mean  time,  Lucullus,  languishing  in  jail, 
could  very  readily  burst  his  fetters  and  re¬ 
gain  his  liberty,  provided  some  man  of  in¬ 
ventive  talent  called  on  the  commissioner  to 


T 


can 


take  out  searches,  say,  on  some  kind  of  a  revertible  crow¬ 
bar. 

Then  the  interest  of  the  story  would  be  sustained,  and  a 
few  more  machines  of  various  kinds  could  be  worked  in,  if, 
for  instance,  I  should  cause  this  escaped  convict  of  mine  to 
ascertain  that  the  musical  composer  had  won  the  heart  of 
Amelia,  in  the  absence  of  her  lover,  by  offering  to  bring  her 
flannel  frills  into  market,  and  to  allow  her  a  royalty,  we  will 


SMITH'S  RAM. 


355 


assume,  of  ten  cents  a  frill.  When  Lucullus  hears  of  this, 
I  should  induce  him  to  try  to  obtain  the  influence  of  Ame¬ 
lia’s  parents  in  his  behalf  by  propitiating  old  Mr.  Smith  with 
the  latest  variety  of  bunion  plaster  for  which  a  patent  was 
wanted,  while  Mrs.  Smith  could  be  appeased  either  with  a 
gingham  umbrella  with  an  improvement  of  six  or  seven  extra 
ribs,  or  else  a  lot  of  galvanized  gum  rings,  if  any  inventor 
brought  such  things  around,  for  her  grandchildren. 

Then,  for  the  sake  of  breaking  the  monotony  of  these  in¬ 
trigues,  we  could  have  a  little  more  of  the  revivified  Al- 
phonso.  I  could  very  readily  fill  the  heart  of  that  reani¬ 
mated  corpse  with  baffled  rage,  and  cause  him  to  sell  to  old 
Smith  one  of  McBride’s  improved  hydraulic  rams.  Smith 
could  be  depicted  as  an  infatuated  being  who  placed  that 
ram  down  in  the  meadow  and  caused  it  to  force  water  up  to 


his  house.  And  Alphonso,  of  course,  with  malignant  hatred 
in  his  soul,  would  meddle  with  the  machine,  and  fumble 
around  until  he  spoiled  it,  so  that  Smith  could  not  stop  it. 


356 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


and  it  would  continue  to  pump  until  the  Smiths  had  a  cas¬ 
cade  flowing  from  their  attic  window.  Mrs.  Smith,  in  her 
despair,  might  impale  herself  on  a  variety  of  reversible  toast¬ 
ing-fork,  and  die  mingling  the  inventor’s  name  with  maledic¬ 
tions  and  groans,  while  Smith,  in  the  anguish  of  his  soul, 
could  live  in  the  barn,  from  whence  he  could  use  an  ingenious 
kind  of  breech-loading  gun — patent  applied  for — to  perfor¬ 
ate  artists  who  came  around  to  sketch  the  falls. 

In  the  mean  time,  Lucullus  might  come  to  the  rescue  with 
a  suction  pump  and  save  the  Smith  ^mansion,  only  to  find 
that  Amelia  had  flown  with  the  composer,  and  had  gone  to 
sea  in  a  ship  with  a  patent  copper  bottom,  and  a  kind  of  a 
binnacle  for  which  an  extension  had  been  granted  by  Con¬ 
gress  on  the  26th  of  February.  It  would  then  be  well,  per¬ 
haps,  to  have  that  copper-bottomed  ship  attacked  by  pirates, 
and  after  a  bloody  hand-to-hand  contest,  in  which  the  com¬ 
poser  could  sink  the  pirate  craft  with  the  model  of  a  gun¬ 
powder  pile-driver  which  he  has  in  the  cabin,  the  enraged 
corsairs  should  swarm  upon  the  deck  of  the  other  ship  for 
the  purpose  of  putting  the  whole  party  to  the  sword.  And, 
of  course,  at  this  painful  crisis  it  would  be  singularly  happy 
to  cause  it  to  turn  out  that  the  chief  pirate  is  our  old  friend 
Alphonso,  who  had  sold  out  his  interest  in  his  hay-rake,  dis¬ 
continued  his  speculations  in  hydraulic  rams  and  become  a 

rover  upon  the  seas. 

The  composer,  it 
would  seem,  would 
then  be  in  a  partic¬ 
ularly  tight  place; 
and  if  the  commis¬ 
sioner  of  patents 
had  any  romance  in 
his  soul,  he  would 
permit  me  to  cause 


DELUDED! 


357 


eh  at  pirate  to  toss  the  musician  overboard.  Amelia  would 
then  tear  herself  from  the  pirate’s  loathsome  embrace  and 
plunge  in  after  him.  The  two  would  float  ashore  on  a  life- 
raft,  if  any  applications  of  that  kind  happened  to  be  pre¬ 
sented  to  the  department.  When  they  got  to  land,  Amelia 
would  shiver  with  cold  until  her  jaws  rattled,  and  the  pain¬ 
ful  truth  would  be  disclosed  to  her  lover  that  she  wore  teeth 
which  were  attached  to  one  of  the  gutta-percha  plates  about 
which  there  was  a  controversy  in  the  courts. 

Then,  if  we  seemed  to  be  approaching  the  end  of  the  re¬ 
port,  I  think  I  would  cause  the  composer  to  shriek  “False! 
false !”  or  to  use  some  exciting  language  of  that  kind,  and  to 
tear  out  his  hair  and  wring  his 
nose  and  fly  off  with  a  broken 
heart  and  a  blasted  life  to  join 
the  pirates  and  to  play  melan¬ 
choly  airs  in  a  minor  key,  ex¬ 
pressive  of  delusive  dreams,  for  ever  and  for  ever,  upon  some 
kind  of  a  double-barreled  flute  with  a  copyright  on  it. 

Thus  even  the  prosaic  material  of  which  the  patent-office 
reports  are  constructed  could  be  made  to  yield  entertainment 
and  instruction,  and  afford  a  basis  of  succulent  and  suggestive 
fact  for  a  superstructure  of  pathetic  and  blood-curdling  fiction. 
The  advantages  of  adopting  such  a  method  in  constructing 
these  documents  would  be  especially  marked  in  the  case  of 
Congressmen.  The  member  who  now  sends  a  patent-office 
report  to  one  of  his  constituents  is  regarded  by  that  mail  as 
a  kind  of  moral  ruin  who  ought  to  be  put  in  some  place 
where  it  would  be  impossible  for  him  to  destroy  the  happi¬ 
ness  and  poison  the  peace  of  unoffending  families.  But  when 
a  competent  novelist  prepares  those  reports,  when  he  throws 
over  them  the  glamour  of  his  fancy,  when  he  adorns  them  with 
his  graceful  rhetoric,  and  gives  a  certain  intense  human  interest 
to  all  the  hay-rakes  and  gum  rings  and  suction  pumps  which 


358 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


now  fill  the  leaden  pages,  these  reports  will  be  sought  after ; 
their  tone  will  be  changed ;  children  will  cry  for  them;  Sun¬ 
day-schools  will  offer  them  as  rewards,  and  the  intelligent 
American  voter  whose  mind  craves  healthy  literature  will 
elect  to  Congress  the  man  who  will  promise  to  send  him  the 
greatest  number  of  copies. 


Here  is  the  story  of  a  tragical  event  of  which  I  was 
a  witness,  and  which  has  created  a  profound  impression 
upon  the  people  of  this  community. 

An  aunt  of  Bessie  Magruder’s  lives  at  Salem ;  and  as  she 
had  never  seen  Bob,  she  invited  him  and  his  betrothed  to 
visit  her  one  day  last  week,  coupling  the  invitation  with  a 
request  that  we  and  the  elder  Magruders  would  come  at  the 
same  time  and  take  dinner  wTith  her.  When  the  boat  from 
up  the  river  arrived  at  New  Castle,  the  entire  party  of  us 
went  aboard.  As  the  steamer  shot  across  the  water  to  Dela¬ 
ware  City,  Bob  and  Bessie  wandered  away  by  themselves, 

while  the  rest  of  us  passed  the 
time  pleasantly  in  conversa¬ 
tion.  At  Delaware  City  we 
came  out  of  the  cabin  to 
watch  the  people  as  they 
passed  over  the  gangway. 
To  our  surprise  and  vexa¬ 
tion,  Lieutenant  Smiley  ap¬ 
peared  among  them.  As 
he  pressed  forward  in  the 
throng  some  one  jostled  him 
roughly,  when  he  uttered  a 
fierce  oath  and  aimed  a  blow 
at  the  offender.  It  missed 
the  mark,  and  he  plunged 
forward  heavily.  He  would 


INTO  THE  SEA.  359 

have  fallen  had  not  one  of  the  boat’s  crew  caught  him 
in  his  arms.  We  saw  then  that  he  was  intoxicated. 

I  watched  Bob  as  he  looked  at  the  wretched  man.  His 
face  flushed  with  indignation  as  he  recalled  the  injury  done 
to  him  by  Smiley,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  would  have  found 
intense  satisfaction  in  an  attempt  to  give  the  lieutenant  a 
thrashing  on  the  spot.  But  he  did  not  contemplate  such  a 
performance,  and  Bessie  clung  tightly  to  his  arm,  half  afraid 
that  he  might  have  a  sudden  and  irresistible  impulse  to  re¬ 
venge,  and  half  afraid  lest  Smiley  might  make  some  shocking 
demonstration  against  the  party  in  that  public  place.  As  he 
staggered  past  us  he  recognized  us ;  and,  brutalized  as  he 
was  with  liquor,  he  seemed  to  feel  the  shame  of  his  condi¬ 
tion  and  the  infamy  of  his  past  conduct.  He  went  away  to 
the  other  side  of  the  boat  and  concealed  himself  from  view. 

When  the  vessel  left  the  wharf  and  proceeded  down  the 
bay,  past  the  fort,  we  walked  about  the  lower  deck,  looking 
at  the  scenery  and  at  the  shipping  which  thronged  the  water. 
No  one  of  us  perceived  Smiley  or  knew  that  he  was  near  us. 
We  had,  indeed,  suffered  ourselves  to  forget  the  scene  we 
had  just  witnessed,  and  we  were  speaking  of  other  matters. 
As  I  stood  by  the  railing  with  my  wife  and  the  Magruders, 
Bob  and  Bessie  came  out  from  the  cabin,  and  Bob  had  just 
spoken  one  word,  when  a*man  came  with  a  hurried  and  un¬ 
even  step  to  the  gangway.  It  was  Smiley.  He  had  been 
sitting  in  the  corner  behind  one  of  the  beams  of  the  boat, 
with  his  hat  pulled  over  his  eyes.  The  rail  at  the  gangway 
swings  aside  to  admit  of  passage  to  and  from  the  wharf. 
Now  it  opened  out  upon  the  water.  Smiley  paused  for  one 
moment,  with  his  fingers  clenched  upon  it ;  then  he  flung  it 
wide  open,  and  leaped  forward  into  the  sea. 

A  cry  of  horror  came  from  the  lips  of  those  who  saw  him 
make  the  plunge,  and  instantly  the  steamer  resounded  with 
screams  for  help.  Before  any  of  us  could  recover  from  the 


360 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


paralysis  of  terror  occasioned  by  the  act,  Smiley  rose  to  the 
surface  far  away  from  the  boat,  and  with  a  shriek  so  awful, 
so  full  of  agony  and  despair,  that  it  chilled  the  blood  of  those 


♦ 

who  heard  it,  he  threw  up  his  arms  and  sank.  In  a  second 
Bob  tossed  off  his  coat,  and  before  I  could  restrain  him  he 
leaped  into  the  water.  He  rose  instantly,  and  struck  out 
boldly  in  the  direction  in  which  Smiley  had  been  seen. 

Bessie  almost  fainted  in  her  father’s  arms,  and  Mrs. 
Adeler  was  white  with  fear.  The  next  moment  the  steamer 
stopped,  and  an  attempt  was  made  to  lower  the  boat.  The 
operation  required  time ;  and  meanwhile,  Bob,  who  is  a  good 
swimmer,  gallantly  cleft  his  way  through  the  wTaves.  I 
think  Smiley  never  rose  again.  For  as  I  entered  the  life- 


SAVED. 


361 


boat  I  could  see  Bob  turning  about  and  endeavoring  to 
swim  toward  the  steamer.  He  was  a  long  way  from  us,  for 
the  vessel  had  gone  far  before  her  headway  could  be  over¬ 
come.  Our  boatmen  pulled  with  desperate  energy  lest  the 
brave  fellow  should  be  unable  to  sustain  himself;  and  as  I 
stood  in  the  stern  and  watched  him  with  eager  eyes,  I  could 
see  that  he  gave  signs  of  being  in  distress.  It  was  heavy 
work  in  the  water,  with  his  clothing  on,  and  the  sea  was 
rough.  We  were  within  a  hundred  yards  of  him  when  he 
sank,  and  I  felt  my  heart  grow  sick  as  I  saw  him  dragged 
beneath  the  waves. 

But  as  we  reached  the  spot  one  of  the  men,  who  was  lean¬ 
ing  over  the  side,  uttered  an  exclamation ;  and  extending  his 
arms,  he  pulled  the  lad’s 
head  and  shoulders  above 
the  surface.  A  moment 
later  he  was  in  the  boat,  hut 
insensible.  As  we  turned 
about  to  seek  the  steamer, 
we  rubbed  his  hands  and  his 
temples  and  strove  to  bring 
him  back  to  life,  and  we 
seemed  to  have  partial  suc¬ 
cess. 

But  when  w^  reached  the 
vessel  and  placed  him  upon 
the  cushions  in  the  cabin, 
we  committed  him  to  better 
hands  than  ours.  Mrs.  Ma- 
gruder’s  medical  skill  then  was  of  the  highest  service.  She 
cared  for  the  poor  lad  with  a  motherly  tenderness  which  was 
as  admirable  as  her  art.  In  a  brief  while  he  revived;  and 
though  suffering  greatly,  he  seemed  sure  of  life.  It  would 
have  made  him  blush,  even  in  his  weakness,  to  have  heard 


362 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


the  praises  heaped  upon  him  for  his  splendid  courage ;  we 
rejoiced  at  them,  but  we  rejoiced  more  to  think  how  he  had 
avenged  himself  upon  his  enemy  by  an  act  of  sublime  self- 
sacrifice. 


And  so,  as  he  came  back  to  consciousness,  we  neared  our 
journey’s  end ;  and  while  we  carried  Bob  from  the  boat  to 
the  carriage  and  placed  him  among  his  loving  friends,  we 
shuddered  to  think  how  the  wretched  man  who  had  wrought 
so  much  evil  was  even  now  sweeping  past  us  in  the  embrace 
of  that  swift  current  to  burial  beneath  the  rolling  billows  of 
the  sea. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


Pitman  as  a  Politician — He  is  Nominated  for  the  Legis¬ 
lature — How  he  was  Serenaded,  and  what  the  Re¬ 
sult  WAS — I  TAKE  A  HAND  AT  POLITICS — THE  STORY  OF 

my  First  Political  Speech — My  Reception  at  Dover — 
Misery  of  a  Man  with  Only  One  Speech — The  Scene 
at  the  Mass  Meeting — A  Frightful  Discomfiture. 


OME  of  the  friends  of  Judge 
Pitman  induced  him,  just  be¬ 
fore  the  last  election,  to  per¬ 
mit  himself  to  be  nominated 
for  the  State  Legislature, 
and  accordingly  he  was  pre¬ 
sented  to  the  people  of  this 
community  as  a  candidate. 
Of  course  he  was  not  select¬ 
ed  because  of  his  fitness  for 
the  position.  The  party 
managers  knew  him  to  be  a 
very  popular  man ;  and  as 
the  success  of  the  party  is 
the  only  thing  they  care  for, 
they  chose  Pitman  as  the  person  most  likely  to  secure  that 
result.  I  cannot  say  that  I  disapproved  of  the  selection. 
For  some  reason,  it  appears  to  be  entirely  impossible  for 
American  citizens  who  live  in  any  of  the  Middle  States  to 
find  educated  and  intelligent  men  who  are  willing  to  repre¬ 
sent  them  in  the  Legislatures.  Those  bodies  are  composed 
for  the  most  part  of  men  whose  solitary  purpose  is  plunder. 


30 


363 


364 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


They  are  legislators  simply  because  it  pays  better  to  black¬ 
mail  railroad  companies  and  to  accept  bribes  from  people 
who  want  votes  for  rascally  measures  than  it  does  to  pick 
pockets.  They  have  the  instincts  and  the  principles  of  a 
pickpocket,  but  their  ambition  is  greater.  They  do  not  steal 
handkerchiefs  and  watches,  because  they  can  filch  fabulous 
sums  of  money  from  the  public  treasury  and  , from  villains 
who  want  to  do  dirty  work  under  the  color  of  the  law. 
They  know  enough  to  enable  them,  with  the  assistance  of 
party  rings,  to  have  themselves  counted  in  at  election-time, 
and  to  devise  new  and  dexterous  schemes  of  dishonesty ;  but 
in  other  and  rather  more  desirable  of  the  qualifications  of 
law-makers  they  are  deficient.  They  occupy  the  most  im¬ 
portant  place  in  republican  governments  without  knowing 
what  republicanism  means,  and  they  create  laws  for  the 
communities  without  having  any  knowledge  of  the  science 
of  law  or  the  slightest  acquaintance  with  the  needs  and  re¬ 
quirements  of  the  people  for  whom  they  act.  The  average 
American  legislator  is  both  ignorant  and  dishonest.  Judge 
Pitman  is  ignorant,  but  he  is  honest ;  and  as  his  election 
would  secure  at  least  a  very  important  half  of  a  fitting  legis¬ 
lator,  I  supported  him. 

My  other  neighbor,  Cooley,  was  the  chairman  of  the  com¬ 
mittee  to  whose  care  was  consigned  the  management  of  the 
campaign  in  which  Judge  Pitman  played  so  prominent  a 
part ;  and  Cooley  conducted  the  business  with  even  an  ex¬ 
cess  of  enthusiasm.  Just  after  the  nomination  of  Pitman, 
Cooley  called  on  him  to  say  that  a  number  of  his  friends 
had  declared  their  intention  to  offer  him  a  serenade.  Cooley 
informed  the  judge  that  some  refreshment  must  be  given  to 
the  serenaders,  but  he,  as  the  chairman  of  the  committee, 
would  attend  to  that ;  the  judge  need  not  make  preparations 
of  any  kind.  Accordingly,  on  the  following  evening  a  brass 
band,  accompanied  by  a  score  or  two  politicians,  entered  Pitr 


PITMAN  ASKS  FOB  HELP. 


365 


man’s  front  yard,  and  for  half  an  hour  there  was  some  very 
good  music.  Then  the  judge  came  out  upon  the  porch  and 
made  a  better  speech  thau  I  had  expected  to  hear  from  him. 
He  concluded  by  asking  the  company  to  enter  his  house. 
Cooley  was  there  with  a  wagon-load  of  meat  and  drink,  in¬ 
cluding,  of  course,  a  large  quantity  of  rum  of  the  most  im¬ 
pressive  kinds.  The  judge,  -with  the  fear  of  the  temperance 
society  present  in  his  mind,  protested  against  the  liquor ;  but 
Cooley  demonstrated  to  him  that  he  would  be  defeated  and 
the  party  ruined  if  it  was  excluded,  and  so  Pitman  reluctantly 
permitted  it  to  be  placed  upon  his  table.  Besides,  as  Cooley 
had  been  so  very  liberal  in  undertaking  to  make  this  pro¬ 
vision  at  his  own  cost,  the  judge  disliked  to  hurt  his  feelings 
by  refusing  to  permit  the  use  of  that  which  Cooley  evidently 
considered  the  most  important  portion  of  it. 

l 

The  guests  remained  at  the  banquet  until  four  o’clock  the 
next  morning,  the  politicians  meanwhile  making  speeches 


and  the  band  playing  occasionally  in  the  dining-room  in  a 
most  uproarious  manner.  We  could  hear  the  noise  at  my 
house  during  the  night,  and  sleep  was  possible  only  with  the 
windows  closed. 

At  four  o'clock  my  door-bell  rang  violently ;  and  upon  de¬ 
scending  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  a  visit  at  such  an  unseemly 
hour,  I  encountered  Judge  Pitman.  He  was  nearly  frantic 
with  indignation. 

“  Adeler,”  he  said,  “  them  fellers  is  a-carryin’  on  scand’- 
lus  over  yer  at  my  house.  They’re  all  drunk  as  owls ;  an’ 
when  I  want  ’em  to  go  home,  they  laugh  an’  swear  an’  cheer 


366 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


an’  smash  the  furniture  an’  bu’st  things  generally.  Mrs. 
Pitman’s  ’bout  sheered  to  death.  Can’t  you  come  over  an’ 
help  me  clear  them  out  ?” 

“  Why  don’t  you  call  a  couple  of  policemen?  You  hunt 
up  two  or  three  officers  while  I  dress  myself,  and  we  will  see 
if  we  can’t  adjourn  the  meeting.” 

By  the  time  I  was  ready  Pitman  arrived  with  one  police¬ 
man,  and  we  proceeded  to  his  house.  As  we  entered,  the 
leader  of  the  band  was  sitting  upon  the  stairs,  infamously 
drunk,  with  the  handle  of  his  umbrella  in  his  mouth,  vainly 
endeavoring  to  play  a  tune  by  fumbling  his  fingers  among 
the  ribs.  Mr.  Cooley  was  in  a  corner  of  the  parlor  support¬ 
ing  himself  by  the  wall  while  he  endeavored  to  discuss  the 


4uestion  of  the  tariff  with  Pitman’s  plaster  bust  of  Daniel 
Webster,  and  to  correct  Daniel’s  view  of  the  local  option 
law.  Another  politician  was  sitting  upon  the  carpet  crying 
because,  so  he  informed  us,  his  wife’s  maiden  name  was  Me- 


THE  JUDGE  IS  ELECTED. 


367 


Carthy,  and  just  as  the  policeman  was  removing  him  a  com¬ 
bat  occurred  between  the  bass  drummer  and  a  man  from 
Wilmington,  during  which  the  drummer  was  hurled  against 
the  pier  glass  and  then  dragged  out  to  bleed 
upon  the  rug.B  The  house  was  finally  cleared 
of  the  company  just  as  the  church  clock 
struck  six,  and  then  Pitman  went  to  bed 
with  sentiments  of  complete  disgust  for  poli¬ 
tics  and  politicians. 

But  he  remained  a  candidate  of  the  party.  He  had 
promised  to  run,  and  he  determined  to  go  through  with  the 
business. 

“  That  serenade  was  rough  enough  without  anythin’  wuss,” 
said  the  judge  to  me  a  day  or  two  afterward;  “but  I  did 
think  Cooley  was  a-rubbin’  it  in  ’most  too  hard  when  he  come 
over  yesterday  with  a  bill  for  the  refreshments  which  be 
wanted  me  to  pay.” 

“  Why,  I  thought  he  agreed  to  supply  the  supper?” 

“  So  he  did.  But  now  he  says  that  of  course  he  was  only 
actin’  for  me.  ‘  The  candidate,’  he  says,  4  always  foots  all 
the  bills.’  I’ll  foot  this  one,  an’  then  I’ll  foot  Cooley  if  he 
ever  brings  them  ruffians  to  my  house  agin.  I  expect 
nothin’  else  but  the  temperance  society  will  shut  down  on 
me  for  that  riot  we  had  t’other  night.” 

“  I  hope  not ;  but  I  should  think  that  affair  would  have 
made  you  sorry  that  you  ever  undertook  this  business.” 

“So  it  does,”  replied  the  judge,  “but  I  never  back  down 
when  I  go  into  a  thing.  I ’m  goin’  to  run  for  the  Legislatur’ ; 
and  if  I’m  elected,  I’m  goin’  to  serve  my  country  honestly 
until  my  time’s  up.  Then  I’m  cornin’  home,  an’  goin’  to  stay 
home.  And  what’s  more,  I’ll  stir  up  that  Legislatur’  while 
I’m  in  it.  You  mind  me!” 

The  result  of  the  contest  was  that  the  judge  was  elected  by 
a  large  majority,  and  he  will  sit  in  the  next  Assembly. 


368 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


I  played  a  peculiar  part  in  the  campaign ;  and  although 
the  narrative  of  my  experience  as  an  amateur  politician  is 
not  a  particularly  grateful  one  to  me,  it  might  as  well  be 
given,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  it  will  serve  to  warn 
others  against  the  fate  that  befel  me. 

I  had  for  some  time  entertained  a  strong  conviction  that 
nature  designed  me  for  an  orator.  I  was  assured  that  I 
possessed  the  gift  of  eloquence  which  enables  great  speakers 
to  sway  the  passions  of  the  multitude,  and#I  felt  that  I 
needed  but  the  opportunity  to  reveal  this  fact  to  the  world. 
Accordingly,  at  the  beginning  of  the  political  campaign  of 
which  I  speak  I  sent  my  name  to  one  of  the  executive 
committees  of  the  State,  in  Wilmington,  with  the  request 
that  it  might  be  written  down  with  the  names  of  the  speakers 
who  could  be  called  upon  whenever  important  meetings  were 
held.  I  waited  impatiently  all  through  the  campaign  for  a 
summons  to  appear  and  electrify  the  people.  It  did  not 
come,  and  I  was  almost  in  despair.  But  on  the  day  before 
the  election  I  received  from  the  chairman  a  brief  note,  say¬ 
ing  that  I  had  been  announced  to  speak  at  Dover  that  even¬ 
ing  before  a  great  mass  meeting,  and  requesting  me  to  take 
the  early  afternoon  train,  so  that  I  might  report  to  the  local 

chairman  in  Dover  before  nightfall.  The  pleasure  with 

• 

which  this  summons  was  received  was  in  some  measure 
marred  by  the  fact  that  I  had  not  a  speech  ready,  and  the 
time  was  so  short  that  elaborate  preparation  was  impossible. 
But  I  determined  to  throw  into  some  sort  of  shape  the  ideas 
and  arguments  which  would  readily  occur  to  the  mind  of  a 
man  familiar  with  the  ordinary  political  questions  of  the 
day  and  with  the  merits  of  the  candidates,  and  to  trust  to 
the  inspiration  of  the  occasion  for  the  power  to  present  them 
forcibly  and  eloquently. 

Of  course  it  was  plain  that  anything  like  an  attempt 
at  gorgeousness  in  such  a  speech  would  be  foolish,  so  I  con- 


THE  SKELETON  OF  THE  SPEECH. 


369 


eluded  to  speak  plainly  and  directly  to  the  point,  and  to 
enliven  my  argument  with  some  amusing  campaign  stories. 
In  order  to  fix  my  points  firmly  in  my  mind  and  to  ensure 
their  presentation  in  their  proper  order,  they  were  num¬ 
bered  and  committed  to  memory,  each  argument  and  its 
accompanying  anecdote  being  associated  with  a  particular 
arithmetical  figure.  The  synopsis,  if  it  may  be  called  by 
that  name,  presented  an  appearance  something  like  the  fol¬ 
lowing,  excepting  that  it  contained  a  specification  of  the 
points  of  the  speech  which  need  not  be  reproduced  here. 

The  Speech. 

1.  Exordium,  concluding  with  Scott’s  famous  lines,  “  Breathes 
there  a  man  with  soul  so  dead,”  etc. 

2.  Arguments,  introducing  a  narrative  of  the  facts  in  the  case 
of  Hotchkiss,  who  was  locked  out  upon  the  roof  of  his  house 
all  night.  (See  particulars  farther  on.)  The  design  of  the  story 
is  to  give  a  striking  picture  of  the  manner  in  which  the  oppo¬ 
sition  party  will  be  left  out  in  the  cold  by  the  election.  (Make 
this  strong,  and  pause  for  cheers.) 

3.  Arguments,  followed  by  the  story  of  the  Kickapoo  Indian 
who  saw  a  locomotive  approaching  upon  the  plains,  and  think¬ 
ing  it  was  a  superior  breed  of  buffalo,  determined  to  capture  it, 
so  that  he  could  take  the  first  prize  at  the  Kickapoo  agricultural 
fair.  He  tied  his  lasso  to  his  waist  and  threw  the  other  end  over 


the  smoke-stack.  The  locomotive  did  not  stop ;  but  when  the  en¬ 
gineer  arrived  at  the  next  station,  he  went  out  and  cut  the  string 
by  which  a  small  bit  of  copper-colored  meat  was  tied  to  his 
smoke-stack.  This  is  to  illustrate  the  folly  of  the  attempt  of 
conservatism  to  check  the  onward  career  of  pure  and  enlightened 
liberalism  toward  perfect  civilization,  etc.,  etc. 


370 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


H  V 
eiiivSc 


•  4.  Arguments,  and  then  the  anecdote  of  that  Dutchman  in 
Berks  county,  Pa.,  who  on  the  10th  of  October,  1866,  was  observed 
to  go  out  into  his  yard  and  raise  the  American  flag ;  then  he  got  his 

gun  and  fired  a  salute  seventeen  or  eighteen 
times,  after  which  he  consumed  six  packs 
of  fire-crackers  and  gave  three  cheers  for 
the  Union.  He  enjoyed  himself  in  this 
^  manner  nearly  all  day,  while  his  neighbors 
gathered  around  outside  and  placed  their 
elbows  upon  the  fence,  watching  him  and 
wondering  what  on  earth  he  meant.  A 
peddler  who  came  along  stopped  and  had  an 
interview  with  him.  To  his  surprise,  he 
found  that  the  German  agriculturist  wag 
celebrating  the  Fourth  of  July,  1859.  He  did  not  know  that  it 
was  any  later  in  the  century,  for  he  had  been  keeping  his  time 
on  a  notched  stick ;  and  having  been  sick  a  great  deal,  he  had 
gotten  the  thing  in  a  dreadful  tangle.  When  he  learned  that 
he  was  seven  Fourths  in  arrears,  he  was  depressed ;  but  he  sent 
out  and  bought  a  box  of  fire-crackers  and  a  barrel  of  gun¬ 
powder,  and  spent  a  week  catching  up. 

(Tell  this  vivaciously,  and  make 
the  point  that  none  but  a  member 
of  the  other  party  could  forget  the 
glorious  anniversary  of  our  coun¬ 
try’s  birth,  and  say  that  the  whole 
party  will  have  to  do  up  a  lot  of 
back  patriotism  some  day,  if  it 
desires  to  eaten  up  with  the  people 
whose  devotion  to  the  country  is 
encouraged  and  kept  active  by  our 
side.) 

5.  Arguments,  supplemented 
with  the  narrative  of  a  confiding 
man  who  had  such  child-like  faith 
in  a  patent  fire-extinguisher  which 
he  had  purchased  that  he  set  fire 
to  his  house  merely  to  have  the  fun  of  putting  it  out.  The 


A  PERFIDIOUS  WOMAN. 


371 


fire  burned  furiously,  but  the  extinguisher  gave  only  two  or 
three  imbecile  squirts  and  then  collapsed,  and  in  two  hours 
his  residenoe  was  in  ashes.  Go  on  to  say  that  our  enemies 
have  applied  the  torch  of  anarchy  to  the  edifice  of  this  gov¬ 
ernment,  but  that  there  is  an  extinguisher  which  will  not  only 
not  collapse,  but  will  subdue  the  flames  and  quench  the  in¬ 
cendiary  organization,  and  that  extinguisher  is  our  party.  (Al¬ 
low  time  for  applause  here.) 

6.  Arguments,  introducing  the  story  of  the  Sussex  county 
farmer  who  was  discouraged  because  his  wife  was  perfidious. 
Before  he  was  married  she  vowed  over  and  over  again  that  she 
-could  chop  four  cords  of  wood  a  day,  but  after  the  ceremony  the 


farmer  found  he  was  deceived.  The  treacherous  woman  could 
not  chop  more  than  two  cords  and  a  half,  and  so  the  dream  of 
the  husband  was  dissipated,  and  he  demanded  a  divorce  as  the 
only  balm  for  the  wounds  which  lacerated  his  heart.  Let  this 
serve  to  illustrate  the  point  that  our  political  enemies  have  de¬ 
ceived  us  with  promises  to  reduce  the  debt,  to  ’’nstitute  reforms, 
etc.,  etc.,  none  of  which  they  have  kept,  and  now  we  must  have 


372 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


the  government  separated  from  them  by  such  a  divorce  as  will 
be  decreed  to-morrow,  etc.,  etc. 

7.  Peroration,  working  in  if  possible  the  story  of  Commodore 
Scudder’s  dog,  which,  while  out  with  its  master  one  day,  pointed 
at  some  partridges.  The  commodore  was  about  to  fire,  but  he 
suddenly  received  orders  to  go  off  on  a  three  years’  cruise,  so  he 
dropped  his  gun,  left  the  dog  standing  there  and  went  right  to 
sea.  When  he  returned,  three  years  later,  he  went  back  to  the 
field,  and  there  was  his  gun,  there  was  the  skeleton  of  the  dog 
still  standing  and  pointing  just  as  he  had  left  it,  and  a  little 
farther  on  were  the  skeletons  of  the  partridges.  Show  how  our 
adversaries  in  their  relations  to  the  negro  question  resemble  that* 
dog.  We  came  away  years  ago  and  left  them  pointing  at  the 
negro  question,  and  we  come  back  now  to  find  that  they  are  at 
it  yet.  Work  this  in  carefully,  and  conclude  in  such  a  manner  ♦ 
as  to  excite  frantic  applause. 

It  was  not  much  of  a  speech,  I  know.  Some  of  the  argu¬ 
ments  were  weak,  and  several  of  the  stories  failed  to  fit  into 
their  places  comfortably.  But  mass  meetings  do  not  criticise 
closely,  and  I  was  persuaded  I  should  make  a  good  impres¬ 
sion,  provoking  laughter  and  perhaps  exciting  enthusiasm. 
The  only  time  that  could  be  procured  for  study  of  the  speech 
was  that  consumed  by  the  journey.  So  when  the  train 
started  I  took  my  notes  from  my  pocket  and  learned  them 
by  heart.  Then  came  the  task  of  enlarging  them,  in  my 
mind,  into  a  speech.  This  was  accomplished  satisfactorily. 

I  suppose  that  speech  was  repeated  at  least  ten  times  be¬ 
tween  New  Castle  and  Dover  until  at  last  I  had  it  at  my 
tongue’s  end.  In  the  cars  the  seat  next  to  mine  was  occupied 
by  a  colored  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  be  a  little  nervous 
when  he  perceived  that  I  was  muttering  something  contin¬ 
ually  ;  and  he  was  actually  alarmed  once  or  twice  when  in 
exciting  passages  I  would  forget  myself  and  gesticulate 
violently  in  his  direction.  Finally,  when  I  came  to  the  con¬ 
clusion  and  was  repeating  to  myself  the  exhortation,  “Strike 


I  AM  WELCOMED. 


373 


Tor  your  altars  and  your  fires,”  etc.,  etc.,  I  emphasized  the 
language  by  striking  fiercely  at  the  floor  with  the  ferule  of 
iny  umbrella.  It  hit  something  soft.  I  think  it  was  the 
corn  of  my  colored  friend,  for  he  leaped  up  hurriedly,  and 
ejaculating  “  Gosh !”  went  up  and  stood  by  the  water-cooler 
during  the  rest  of  the  journey,  looking  at  me  as  if  he  thought 
it  was  dangerous  for  such  a  maniac  to  be  at  large. 

When  the  train  arrived  at  Dover,  I  was  gratified  to  find 
the  chairman  of  the  local  committee  and  eighteen  of  his  fel¬ 
low-citizens  waiting  for  me  with  carriages  and  a  brass  band. 
As  I  stepped  from  the  car  the  band  played  “  See,  the  Con¬ 
quering  Hero  comes!”  I  marched  into  the  waiting-room 
of  the  depot,  followed  by  the  committee  and  the  band.  The 
chairman  and  his  friends  formed  a  semi-circle  and  stared  at 


me.  I  learned  afterward  that  thev  had  received  information 
from  Wilmington  that  I  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
orators  in  the  State.  It  was  impossible  not  to  perceive  that 
they  regarded  me  already  with  enthusiastic  admiration;  and 
my  heart  sank  a  little  as  I  reflected  upon  the  possibility  of 
failure. 

Then  the  music  ceased,  and  the  chairman  proposed  “  three 
cheers  for  our  eloquent  visitor.”  The  devoted  beings  around 
him  cheered  lustily.  The  chairman  thereupon  came  forward 
and  welcomed  me  in  the  following  terms: 

“  My  dear  sir,  it  is  with  unfeigned  satisfaction  that  I  have 
— may  I  say  the  exalted  honor  ? — of  welcoming  you  to  the 
city  of  Dover.  You  come,  sir,  at  a  moment  when  the  heart 
of  every  true  patriot  beats  high  with  hope  for  a  glorious 


374 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


triumph  over  the  enemies  of  our  cherished  institutions ;  you 
come,  sir,  at  a  time  when  our  great  party,  the  true  repre¬ 
sentative  of  American  principles  and  the  guardian  of  our 
liberties,  bends  to  grapple  with  the  deadly  foe  of  our  country ; 
at  a  time,  sir,  when  the  American  eagle — proud  bird,  which 
soars,  as  we  would,  to  the  sun — screams  forth  its  defiance  of 
treason,  and  when  the  banner  of  the  free,  the  glorious  em¬ 
blem  of  our  nationality,  waves  us  onward  to  victory ;  you  come, 
sir,  to  animate  with  your  eloquence  the  hearts  of  our  fellow- 
citizens  ;  to  inspire  with  your  glowing  language  the  souls  of 
those  who  shrink  from  performing  their  duty  in  this  contest; 
to  depict  in  words  of  burning,  scathing  power  the  shame,  the 
disgrace,  the  irretrievable  ruin,  which  will  befall  our  land  if 
its  enemies  are  victorious,  and  to  hold  up  those  enemies,  as 
you  well  know  how,  to  the  scorn  and  contempt  of  all  honest 
men.  We  give  you  a  hearty  welcome,  then,  and  assure  you 
that  Dover  will  respond  nobly  to  your  appeal,  giving  to¬ 
morrow  such  a  vote  for  justice,  truth  and  the  rights  of  man 
that  the  conservative  wolf  will  shrink  back  in  dismay  to  his 
lair.  Welcome,  sir,  thrice  welcome,  to  our  city!” 

I  stood  looking  at  this  man  throughout  his  speech  with  a 
*  conviction,  constantly  growing  stronger,  that  I  should  be 
obliged  to  reply  to  him  at  some  length.  The  contemplation 
of  such  a  thing,  I  need  hardly  say,  filled  me  with  horror.  I 
had  never  made  a  speech  of  the  kind  that  would  be  required 
in  my  life,  and  I  felt  positively  certain  that  I  could  not  ac¬ 
complish  the  task  now.  I  had  half  a  mind  to  hurl  at  the 
heads  of  this  chairman  and  his  attendant  fiends  the  entire 
oration  prepared  for  the  evening ;  but  that  seemed  so  dread¬ 
fully  inappropriate  that  the  idea  was  abandoned.  And  be¬ 
sides,  what  would  I  say  at  the  mass  meeting  ?  The  comfort 
of  the  situation  was  not,  by  any  means,  improved  by  the  fact 
that  these  persons  entertained  the  belief  that  I  was  an  ex¬ 
perienced  speaker  who  would  probably  throw  off*  a  dozen 


A  COLD-EYED  DRUMMER. 


375 


brilliant  things  in  as  many  sentences.  It  was  exceedingly 
embarrassing ;  and  when  the  chairman  concluded  his  re¬ 
marks,  the  cold  perspiration  stood  upon  my  forehead  and  my 
knees  trembled. 

Happily,  the  leader  of  the  band  desired  to  make  himself 
conspicuous,  so  he  embraced  the  opportunity  afforded  by  the 
pause  to  give  us  some  startling  variations  of  “  The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner.” 

As  we  stood  there  listening  to  the  music,  I  observed  that 
the  energetic  gentleman  who  played  upon  the  drum  and 
cymbals  was  looking  at  me  with  what  seemed  to  be  a  scorn¬ 
ful  smile.  He  had  a  peculiarly  cold  eye,  and 
as  he  fixed  it  upon  me  I  felt  that  the  frigid 
optic  pierced  through  and  through  my  as¬ 
sumption  of  ease  and  perceived  what  a  miser¬ 
able  sham  it  was  for  me  to  stand  there  pre¬ 
tending  to  be  an  orator.  I  quailed  before 
that  eye.  Its  glance  humiliated  me ;  and  I 
did  not  feel  more  pleasantly  when,  as  the 
band  dashed  into  the  final  quavers  which  bring  up  sugges¬ 
tions  of  “  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave,” 
I  saw  the  scorn  which  erst  flashed  from  that  eye  change  to 
a  look  of  wild  exultation.  The  cymbal  man  knew  that  my 
hour  had  come.  He  gave  a  final  clash  with  his  brasses  and 
paused.  I  had  to  begin.  Bowing  to  the  chairman,  I  said, 

“  Mr.  Chairman  and  fellow-citizens,  there  are  times — times 
— there  are  times,  fellow-citizens,  when — times  when — when 
the  heart — there  are  times,  I  say,  Mr.  Chairman  and  fellow- 
citizens,  when  the  heart — the  heart  of— of — ”  It  wouldn’t  do. 
I  stuck  fast,  and  could  not  get  out  another  word. 

The  cold-eyed  man  seemed  ready  to  play  triumphal  strains 
upon  his  drum  and  to  smash  out  a  paean  upon  his  cymbals. 
In  the  frenzy  and  desperation  of  the  moment,  I  determined 

to  take  the  poetry  from  my  exordium  and  to  jam  it  into  the 
31 


376 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


present  speech,  whether  it  was  appropriate  or  not.  I  began 
again : 

*  “  There  are  times,  I  say,  fellow-citizens  and  Mr.  Chair¬ 
man,  when  the  heart  inquires  if  there  breathes  a  man  with 
soul  so  dead,  who  never  to  himself  hath  said,  ‘  This  is  my 
own,  my  native  land’ — whose  heart  has  ne’er  within  him 

burned  as  home  his  footsteps  he 
hath  turned  from  wanderings 
on  a  foreign  shore?  If  such 
there  breathe,  go,  mark  him 
well !”  (Here  I  pointed  to  the 
street,  and  one  of  the  com¬ 
mittee,  who  seemed  not  to 
comprehend  the  thing  exactly, 
rushed  to  the  window  and 
looked  out,  as  if  he  intended 
to  call  a  policeman  to  arrest 
the  wretch  referred  to.)  “For 
him  no  minstrel  raptures 
swell.”  (Here  the  leader  of  the 
band  bowed,  as  if  he  had  a  vague  idea  that  this  was  a  com¬ 
pliment  ingeniously  worked  into  the  speech  for  his  benefit ; 
but  the  cold-eyed  man  had  a  sneering  smile  which  seemed  to 
say,  “  It  won’t  do,  my  man,  it  won’t  do.  I  can’t  be  bought 
off  in  that  manner.”)  “  High  though  his  titles,  proud  his 
name,  boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim  ;  despite  these 
titles,  power  and  pelf,  the  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self, 
living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown,  and  doubly  dying  shall  go 
down  to  the  vile  dust  from  whence  he  sprung,  unwept,  un- 
honored  and  unsung.” 

I  stopped.  There  was  embarrassing  silence  for  a  moment, 
as  if  everybody  thought  I  had  something  more  to  say.  But 
I  put  on  my  hat  and  shouldered  my  umbrella  to  assure  them 
that  the  affair  was  ended.  Then  it  began  to  be  apparent 


THE  PROCESSION. 


377 


that  the  company  failed  to  grasp  the  purpose  of  my  remarks. 
One  man  evidently  thought  I  was  complaining  of  something 
that  happened  to  me  while  I  was  upon  the  train,  for  he  took 
me  aside  and  asked  me  in  a  confidential  whisper  if  it  wouldn’t 
be  better  for  him  to  see  the  conductor  about  it. 

Another  man  inquired  if  the  governor  was  the  man  re¬ 
ferred  to. 

I  said,  “  No ;  the  remarks  were  of  a  poetical  nature ;  they 
were  quoted.” 

4 

The  man  seemed  surprised,  and  asked  where  I  got  them 
from. 

“From  Marmion.” 

He  considered  a  moment,  and  then  said, 

“Don’t  know  him.  Philadelphia  man,  I  reckon?” 

The  occasion  was  too  sad  for  words.  I  took  the  chair¬ 
man’s  arm  and  we  marched  out  to  the  carriages,  the  cold- 
eyed  man  thumping  his  drum  as  if  his  feeling  of  animosity 
for  me  wt>uld  kill  him  if  it  did  not  find  vigorous  expression 
of  that  kind. 

We  entered  the  carriages  and  formed  a  procession,  the 
band,  on  foot,  leading  the  way  and  playing  “  Hail  to  the 
Chief.”  I  rode  with  the  chairman,  who  insisted  that  I  should 
carry  the  American  flag  in  my  hand.  As  we  passed  up  the 
street  the  crowTd  cheered  us  vehemently  several  times,  and  the 
chairmau  said  he  thought  it  would  be  better  if  I  would  rise 
occasionally  and  bow  in  response.  I  did  so,  remarking,  at 
the  last,  that  it  was  rather  singular  such  a  reception  should 
be  given  to  a  complete  stranger. 

The  chairman  said  he  had  been  thinking  of  that,  and  it 
had  occurred  to  him  just  at  that  moment  that  perhaps  the 
populace  had  mistaken  the  character  of  the  parade. 

“  You  see,”  said  he,  “there  is  a  circus  in  town,  and  I  am 
a  little  bit  afraid  the  people  are  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  this  is  the  showman’s  procession,  and  that  you  are  the 


378 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


Aerial  King.  That  monarch  is  a  man  of  about  your  build, 
and  he  wears  whiskers.” 

The  Aerial  King  achieved  distinction  and  a  throne  by 
leaping  into  the  air  and  turning  two  backward  somersaults 
before  alighting,  and  also  by  standing  poised  upon  one  toe 
on  a  wire  while  he  balanced  a  pole  upon  his  nose.  I  had  no 
desire  to  share  the  sceptre  with  that  man,  or  to  rob  him  of 
any  of  his  renown,  so  I  furled  the  flag  of  my  beloved  country, 
pulled  my  hat  over  my  eyes  and  refused  to  bow  again. 

It  was  supper-time  when  we  reached  the  hotel,  and  as 
soon  as  we  entered,  the  chairman  invited  us  into  one  of  the 
parlors,  where  an  elaborate  repast  had  been  prepared  for 
the  whole  party.  We  went  into  the  room,  keeping  step 
with  a  march  played  by  the  band,  which  was  placed  in  the 
corner.  When  supper  was  over,  it  was  with  dismay  that  I 
saw  the  irrepressible  chairman  rise  and  propose  a  toast,  to 
which  he  called  upon  one  of  the  company  to  respond.  I 
knew  my  turn  would  come  presently,  and  there  seemed  to 
be  no  choice  between  the  sacrifice  of  my  great  speech  to  this 
paltry  occasion  and  utter  ruin  and  disgrace.  It  appeared 
to  me  that  the  chairman  must  have  guessed  that  I  had  but 
one  speech,  and  that  he  had  determined  to  force  me  to 
deliver  it  prematurely,  so  that  I  might  be  overwhelmed  with 
mortification  at  the  mass  meeting.  But  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  cling  desperately  to  the  solitary  oration,  no  matter 
how  much  pressure  was  brought  to  bear  to  deprive  me  of  it. 
So  I  resolved  that  if  the  chairman  called  upon  me  I  would 
tell  my  number  two  story,  giving  the  arguments,  and  omit' 
ting  all  of  it  from  my  speech  in  the  evening. 

He  did  call.  When  two  or  three  men  had  spoken,  the 
chairman  offered  the  toast,  “  The  orator  of  the  evening,”  and 
it  was  received  with  applause.  The  chairman  said :  “  It  is 
with  peculiar  pleasure  that  I  offer  this  sentiment.  It  gives 
to  my  eloquent  young  friend  an  opportunity  which  could 


HOTCHKISS'S  JOKE. 


379 


not  be  obtained  amid  the  embarrassments  of  the  depot  to 
offer,  without  restraint,  such  an  exhibition  of  his  powers  as 
would  prove  to  the  company  that  the  art  which  enabled 
Webster  and  Clay  to  win  the  admiration  of  an  entranced 
world  was  not  lost — that  it  found  a  master  interpreter  in  the 
gentleman  who  sits  before  me.” 

This  was  severe.  The  cold-eyed  child  of  the  Muses  sit¬ 
ting  with  the  band  looked  as  if  he  felt  really  and  thoroughly 
glad  in  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  soul  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life. 

I  rose,  and  said :  “  Mr.  Chairman  and  gentlemen,  I  am 
too  much  fatigued  to  make  a  speech,  and  I  wish  to  save  my 
voice  for  to-night ;  so  I  will  tell  you  a  story  of  a  man  I  used 
to  know  whose  name  was  Hotchkiss.  He  lived  up  at  New 
Castle,  and  one  night  he  thought  he  would  have  a  little 
innocent  fun  scaring  his  wife  by  dropping  a  loose  brick  or 
two  down  the  chimney  into  the  fireplace  in  her  room.  So 
he  slipped  softly  out  of  bed ;  and  dressed  in  his  night-shirt, 
he  stole  up  stairs  and  crept  out  upon  the  roof.  Mr.  Hotch¬ 
kiss  dropped  nineteen 
bricks  down  that  chim¬ 
ney,  Mr.  Chairman  and 
gentlemen,  each  one 
with  an  emphatic  slam, 
but  his  wife  didn’t 
scream  once.” 

Everybody  seemed  to 
think  this  was  the  end 
of  the  story;  so  there 
was  a  roar  of  laughter, 
although  I  had  not 
reached  the  humorous 
part  or  the  real  point 

of  the  anecdote,  which 

31* 


380 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


describes  how  Hotchkiss  gave  it  up  and  tried  to  go  down 
stairs,  but  was  surprised  to  find  that  Mrs.  Hotchkiss,  who 
had  been  watching  all  the  time,  had  retreated,  fastening  the 
trap-door,  so  that  he  spent  the  next  four  hours  upon  the  comb 
of  the  roof  with  his  trailing  garments  of  the  night  flutter¬ 
ing  in  the  evening  breeze.  But  they  all  laughed  and  began 
to  talk ;  and  the  leader  of  the  band,  considering  that  his 
turn  must  have  come,  struck  out  into  “Hail  Columbia, ” 
while  the  man  with  the  cymbals  seemed  animated  with  fiend¬ 
ish  glee. 

I  tried  to  explain  to  the  chairman  that  it  was  all  wrong, 
that  the  affair  was  terribly  mixed. 

He  said  he  thought  himself  that  it  seemed  so  somehow, 
and  he  offered  to  explain  the  matter  to  the  company  and 
to  give  me  a  chance  to  tell  the  story  over  again  properly. 

I  intimated,  gloomily,  that  if  he  undertook  such  a  thing 
I  would  blow  out  his  brains  with  the  very  first  horse-pistol 
I  could  lay  my  hands  upon. 

He  said  perhaps,  then,  it  would  be  better  not  to  do 

The  proceedings  at  the  mass  meeting  were  to  begin  at 
eight  o’clock.  At  half-past  seven  I  went  to  the  telegraph 
office,  and  sent  the  following  despatch  to  the  Wilmington 
papers,  fearing  the  office  might  be  closed  when  the  meeting 
adjourned : 

“  Dover, - ' — ,  18 — :  A  tremendous  mass  meeting  was 

held  here  to-night.  The  utmost  enthusiasm  was  displayed 
by  the  crowd.  Effective  speeches  were  made  by  several 
prominent  gentlemen,  among  them  the  eloquent  young 
orator  Mr.  Max  Adeler,  whose  spirited  remarks,  inter¬ 
spersed  with  sparkling  anecdote,  provoked  uproarious  ap¬ 
plause.  Dover  is  good  for  five  hundred  majority,  and  per¬ 
haps  a  thousand.” 


KEYSER  SPEAKS. 


381 


At  eight  o’clock  a  very  large  crowd  really  did  assemble 
in  front  of  the  porch  of  one  of  the  hotels.  The  speakers 
were  placed  upon  the  balcony,  which  was  but  a  few  feet 
above  the  pavement,  and  there  was  also  a  number  of  per¬ 
sons  connected  with  the  various  political  clubs  of  the  town. 
I  felt  somewhat  nervous ;  but  I  was  tolerably  certain  I  could 
speak  my  piece  acceptably,  even  with  the  poetry  torn  out  of 
the  introduction  and  the  number  two  story  sacrificed.  I 
took  a  seat  upon  the  porch  and  waited  while  the  band 
played  a  spirited  air  or  two.  It  grieved  me  to  perceive  that 
the  band  stood  directly  in  front  of  us  upon 
the  pavement,  the  cold-eyed  drummer  occu¬ 
pying  a  favorable  position  for  staring  at  me. 

The  chairman  began  with  a  short  speech 
in  which  he  went  over  almost  precisely  the 
ground  covered  by  my  introduction ;  and  as 
that  portion  of  my  oration  was  already  re¬ 
duced  to  a  fragment  by  the  use  of  the  verses, 

I  quietly  resolved  to  begin,  when  my  turn 
came,  with  point  number  two. 

The  chairman  introduced  to  the  crowd  Mr.  Keyser,  who 
was  received  with  cheers.  He  was  a  ready  speaker,  and  he 
began,  to  my  deep  regret,  by  telling  in  capital  style  my 
story  number  three,  after  which  he  used  up  some  of  my 
number  six  arguments,  and  concluded  with  the  remark  that 
it  was  not  his  purpose  to  occupy  the  attention  of  the  meeting 
for  any  length  of  time,  because  the  executive  committee  in 
Wilmington  had  sent  an  eloquent  orator  who  was  now  upon 
the  platform  and  would  present  the  cause  of  the  party  in  a 
manner  .which  he  could  not  hope  to  approach. 

Mr.  Keyser  then  sat  down,  and  Mr.  Schwartz  was  intro¬ 
duced.  Mr.  Schwartz  observed  that  it  was  hardly  worth 
while  for  him  to  attempt  to  make  anything  like  a  speech, 
because  the  gentleman  from  New  Castle  had  come  down  ou 


382 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


purpose  to  discuss  the  issues  of  the  campaign,  and  the  audi¬ 
ence,  of  course,  was  anxious  to  hear  him.  Mr.  Schwartz 
would  only  tell  a  little  story  which  seemed  to  illustrate  a 
point  he  wished  to  make,  and  he  thereupon  related  my  anec¬ 
dote  number  seven,  making  it  appear  that  he  was  the  bosom 
friend  of  Commodore  Scudder  and  an  acquaintance  of  the 
man  who  made  the  gun.  The  point  illustrated  I  was 
shocked  to  find  was  almost  precisely  that  which  I  had  at¬ 
tached  to  my  story  number  seven.  The  situation  began  to 
have  a  serious  appearance.  Here,  at  one  fell  swoop,  two  of 
my  best  stories  and  three  of  my  sets  of  arguments  were  swept 
off  into  utter  uselessness. 

When  Schwartz  withdrew,  a  man  named  Krumbauer  was 
brought  forward.  Krumbauer  was  a  German,  and  the 
chairman  announced  that  he  would  speak  in  that  language 
for  the  benefit  of  those  persons  in  the  audience  to  whom  the 
tongue  was  pleasantly  familiar.  Krumbauer  went  ahead, 
and  the  crowd  received  his  remarks  with  roars  of  laughter. 
After  one  particularly  exuberant  outburst  of  merriment,  I 
asked  the  man  who  sat  next  to  me,  and  who  seemed  deeply 
interested  in  the  story, 

“What  was  that  little  joke  of  Krumbauer’s?  It  must 
have  been  first  rate.” 

“  So  it  was,”  he  said.  “  It  was  about  a  Dutchman  up  in 
Berks  county,  Penna.,  who  got  mixed  up  in  his  dates.” 

“  What  dates  ?”  I  gasped,  in  awful  apprehension. 

“  Why,  his  Fourths  of  July,  you  know.  Got  seven  or  eight 
years  in  arrears  and  tried  to  make  them  all  up  at  once. 
Good,  wasn’t  it  ?” 

“Good?  I  should  think  so;  ha!  ha!  My  very  best 
story,  as  I’m  a  sinner !” 

It  was  awfully  bad.  I  could  have  strangled  Krumbauer 
and  then  chopped  him  into  bits.  The  ground  seemed  slip¬ 
ping  awray  beneath  me ;  there  was  the  merest  skeleton  of  a 


GOING  TO  TELL  A  STORY. 


383 


speech  left.  But  I  determined  to  take  that  and  do  my  best, 
trusting  to  luck  for  a  happy  result. 

But  my  turn  had  not  yet  come.  Mr.  Wilson  was  dragged 
out  next,  and  I  thought  I  perceived  a  demoniac  smile  steal 
over  the  countenance  of  the  cymbal  player  as  Wilson  said 
he  was  too  hoarse  to  say  much  ;  he  would  leave  the  heavy 
work  for  the  brilliant  young  orator  who  was  here  from  New 
Castle.  He  would  skim  rapidly  over  the  ground  and  then 
retire.  He  did.  Wilson  rapidly  skimmed  all  the  cream  off 
of  my  arguments  numbers  two,  five  and  six,  and  wound  up 
by  offering  the  whole  of  my  number  four  argument.  My 
hair  fairly  stood  on  end  when  Wilson  bowed  and  left  the 
stand.  What  on  earth  was  I  to  do  now  ?  Not  an  argument 
left  to  stand  upon ;  all  my  anecdotes  gone  but  two,  and  my 
mind  in  such  a  condition  of  frenzied  bewilderment  that  it 
seemed  as  if  there  was  not  another  available  argument  or 
suggestion  or  hint  or  anecdote  remaining  in  the  entire  uni¬ 
verse.  In  an  agony  of  despair,  I  turned  to  the  man  next  to 
me  and  asked  him  if  I  would  have  to  follow  Wilson. 

He  said  it  was  his  turn  now. 

“And  what  are  you  going  to  say?”  I  demanded,  sus¬ 
piciously. 

“  Oh,  nothing,”  he  replied — “  nothing  at  all.  I  want  to 
leave  room  for  you.  I’ll  just  tell  a  little  story  or  so,  to 
amuse  them,  and  then  sit  down.” 

“  What  story,  for  instance?”  I  asked. 

“  Oh,  nothing,  nothing ;  only  a  little  yarn  I  happen  to  re¬ 
member  about  a  farmer  who  married  a  woman  who  said  sh<s 
could  cut  four  cords  of  wood,  when  she  couldn’t.” 

My  worst  fears  were  realized.  I  turned  to  the  man  next 
to  me,  and  said,  with  suppressed  emotion, 

“  May  I  ask  your  name,  my  friend  ?” 

He  said  his  name  was  Gumbs. 

“May  I  inquire  what  your  Christian  name  is?” 


384 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


He  said  it  was  William  Henry. 

“Well,  William  Henry  Gumbs,”  I  exclaimed,  “gaze  at 
me !  Do  I  look  like  a  man  who  would  slay  a  human  being 
in  cold  blood  ?” 

“  Hm-m-m,  n-no ;  you  don’t,”  he  replied,  with  an  air  of 
critical  consideration. 

“  But  I  AM !”  said  I,  fiercely — “  I  AM ;  and  I  tell  you 
now  that  if  you  undertake  to  relate  that  anecdote  about  the 
farmer’s  wife  I  will  blow  you  into  eternity  without  a  mo¬ 
ment’s  warning ;  I  will,  by  George !” 

Mr.  Gumbs  instantly  jumped  up,  placed  his  hand  on  the 
railing  of  the  porch,  and  got  over  suddenly  into  the  crowd. 
He  stood  there  pointing  me  out  to  the  bystanders,  and 
doubtless  advancing  the  theory  that  I  was  an  original  kind 
of  a  lunatic,  who  might  be  expected  to  have  at  any  moment 
a  fit  which  would  be  interesting  when  studied  from  a  dis¬ 
tance. 

The  chairman  looked  around,  intending  to  call  upon  my 
friend  Mr.  Gumbs ;  but  not  perceiving  him,  he  came  to  me 
and  said : 

“Now  is  your  chance,  sir;  splendid  opportunity;  crowd 
worked  up  to  just  the  proper  pitch.  We  have  paved  the 
way  for  you ;  go  in  and  do  your  best.” 

“  Oh  yes ;  but  hold  on  for  a  few  moments,  will  you  ?  I 
can’t  speak  now ;  the  fact  is  I  am  not  quite  ready.  Run  out 
some  other  man.” 

“  Haven’t  got  another  man.  Kept  you  for  the  last  pur¬ 
posely,  and  the  crowd  is  waiting.  Come  ahead  and  pitch  in, 
and  give  it  to  ’em  hot  and  heavy.” 

It  was  very  easy  for  him  to  say  “  give  it  to  them,”  but  I 
had  nothing  to  give.  Beautifully  they  paved  the  way  for 
me !  Nicely  they  had  worked  up  the  crowd  to  the  proper 
pitch !  Here  I  was  in  a  condition  of  frantic  despair,  with  a 
crowd  of  one  thousand  people  expecting  a  brilliant  oration 


THE  SPEECH. 


385 


from  me  who  had  not  a  thing  in  my  mind  but  a  beggarly 
story  about  a  fire-extinguisher  and  a  worse  one  about  a 
farmer’s  wife.  I  groaned  in  spirit  and  wished  I  had  been 
born  far  away  in  some  distant  clime  among  savages  who 
knew  not  of  mass  meetings,  and  whose  language  contained 
such  a  small  number  of  words  that  speech-making  was  im¬ 
possible. 

But  the  chairman  was  determined.  He  seized  me  by  the 
arm  and  fairly  dragged  me  to  the  front.  He  introduced  me 
to  the  crowd  in  flattering,  and  I  may  say  outrageously  ridic¬ 
ulous,  terms,  and  then  whispering  in  my  ear,  “  Hit  ’em  hard, 
old  fellow,  hit  ’em  hard,”  he  sat  down. 

The  crowd  received  me  with  three  hearty  cheers.  As  I 
heard  them  I  began  to  feel  dizzy.  The  audience  seemed  to 
swim  around  and  to  increase  tenfold  in  size.  By  a  resolute 
effort  I  recovered  my  self-possession  partially,  and  determined 
to  begin.  I  could  not  think  of  anything  but  the  two  stories, 
and  I  resolved  to  tell  them  as  well  as  I  could.  I  said, 

“  Fellow-citizens :  It  is  so  late  now  that  I  will  not  attempt 
to  make  a  speech  to  you.”  (Cries  of  “  Yes!”  “Go ahead!” 
“  Never  mind  the  time !”  etc.,  etc.)  Elevating  my  voice,  I 
repeated :  “  I  say  it  is  so  late  now  that  I  can’t  make  a  speech 
as  I  intended  on  account  of  its  being  so  late  that  the  speech 
which  I  intended  to  make  would  keep  you  here  too  late  if  I 
made  it  as  I  intended  to.  So  I  will  tell  you  a  story  about  a 
man  who  bought  a  patent  fire-extinguisher  which  was  war¬ 
ranted  to  split  four  cords  of  wood  a  day ;  so  he  set  fire  to  his 
house  to  try  her,  and —  No,  it  was  his  wife  who  was  war¬ 
ranted  to  split  four  cords  of  wrood — I  got  it  wrong;  and  when 
the  flames  obtained  full  headway,  he  found  she  could  only 
split  twTo  cords  and  a  half,  and  it  made  him —  What  I 
mean  is  that  the  farmer,  when  he  bought  the  exting — 
courted  her,  that  is,  she  said  she  could  set  fire  to  the  house, 
and  when  he  tried  her,  she  collapsed  the  first  time — the  ex- 


386 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


tinguisher  did,  and  he  wanted  a  divorce  because  his  house — 
Oh,  hang  it,  fellow-citizens,  you  understand  that  this  man,  or 
farmer,  rather,  bought  a — I  should  say  courted  a — that  is,  a 
fire-ex — ”  (Desperately.)  “  Fellow-citizens !  If  any  man 
SHOOTS  THE  AMERICAN  FLAG,  PULL  HIM  DOWN  UPON  THE 
SPOT  ;  BUT  AS  FOR  ME,  GIVE  ME  LIBERTY  OR  GIVE  ME 
DEATH  !” 

As  I  shouted  this  out  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  in  an  ecstasy 

of  confusion,  a  wild,  tu¬ 
multuous  yell  of  laugh¬ 
ter  came  up  from  the 
crowd.  I  paused  for  a 
second  beneath  the  spell 
of  that  cold  eye  in  the 
band,  and  then,  dash¬ 
ing  through  the  throng 
at  the  back  of  the  porch, 
I  rushed  down  the  street 
to  the  dep6t,  with  the 
shouts  of  the  crowd  and 
the  uproarious  music  of 
the  band  ringing  in  my 
ears.  I  got  upon  a 
freight  train,  gave  the 
engineer  five  dollars  to  take  me  along  on  the  locomotive,  and 
spent  the  night  riding  to  New  Castle. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


The  Wedding-Day — Enormous  Excitement  in  the  Village 
— Preparations  for  the  Event — The  Conduct  of  Bob 
Parker — The  Ceremony  at  the  Church,  and  the  Com¬ 
pany  at  Magruder’s — A  Last  Look  at  some  Old  Friends 
— Departure  of  the  Bride  and  Groom— Some  uncom¬ 
monly  Solemn  Deflections,  and  then  the  End. 

ESTERDAY  was  the  day  of 
the  wedding. 

I  suppose  no  one  can  hope 
to  describe  accurately  the 
sensation  that  is  created  by 
such  an  event  in  a  little  com¬ 
munity  like  ours.  It  has 
supplied  the  ladies  of  the  vil¬ 
lage  with  material  for  discus¬ 
sion  for  several  weeks  past, 
and  the  extraordinary  inter¬ 
est  manifested  in  it  has  con¬ 
stantly  grown  stronger  until 
it  culminated  in  a  blaze  of 
excitement  wThich  made  calmness  upon  the  part  of  any  New 
Castilian  upon  the  great  day  a  wholly  impossible  condition. 
My  own  wife  has  introduced  the  subject  in  her  conversation 
with  me  at  every  available  opportunity ;  and  when  I  have 
grown  wreary  of  hearing  about  the  preparations  for  the  wed¬ 
ding,  about  the  purchases  made  by  the  Magruders  for  Bessie, 
about  the  presents  given  to  the  bride  by  her  friends,  about  the 
future  prospects  of  the  pair,  and  about  other  matrimonial 
32  38/ 


388 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


things  innumerable,  the  excellent  partner  of  my  joys,  still 
with  unabated  enthusiasm,  has  turned  from  so  dull  a  listener, 
and  seizing  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  has  darted  off  to  visit  Mrs. 
Jones  or  Mrs.  Hopkins,  and  has  found  them  eager  to  partici¬ 
pate  in  conversation  upon  these  subjects.  During  the  past 
month  this  sympathetic  woman  has  called  at  Magruder’s  at 
least  three  times  a  day  to  ascertain  the  latest  facts  respecting 
the  situation,  and  to  give  advice  and  assistance  to  the  busy 
workers  who  have  been  preparing  the  multitude  of  articles 
which  a  girl  must  have  before  she  is  married.  Every  wo¬ 
man  in  the  village  was  familiar,  long  ago,  with  the  minutest 
details  of  the  arrangements,  and  all  of  them  were  so  deeply 
absorbed  in  the  preparations  and  in  contemplation  of  the 
approaching  catastrophe  that  they  cared  for  nothing  else. 
If  there  had  been  revolutions,  if  thrones  had  tottered  to  their 
fall,  if  hurricanes  had  swept  over  the  land  and  the  nations 
had  been  stricken  by  the  scourge,  I  verily  believe  that  these 
devoted  women  of  New  Castle  would  have  regarded  these 
calamities  with  steadfast  composure,  and  would  have  excluded 
them  from  a  place  in  the  social  debates  wherein  the  wedding 
of  Bessie  Magruder  was  the  one  great  subject  of  discussion. 

There  is  nothing  more  intense  in  nature  than  the  interest 
felt  by  a  woman  in  the  marriage  of  another  woman.  The 
fanatic  fury  of  a  Hindoo  devotee  is  mere  icy  indifference  in 
comparison  to  it. 

It  was  entertaining  to  watch  Bob  Parker  upon  the  even¬ 
ing  before  the  wedding  and  upon  the  morning  of  the  great 
day  itself.  He  had  everything  ready  a  week  before  the 
time,  and  upon  the  last  night  of  his  bachelor  life  he  had 
nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  at  home  with  us  and  think.  And 
so,  while  I  read  my  book  and  while  Mrs.  Adeler  finished  the 
bonnet  that  she  had  made  for  the  occasion  from  old  material 
(the  dexterous  economy  of  that  woman,  by  the  way,  is  simply 
phenomenal),  Bob  fidgeted  about.  He  pretended  to  read  the 


THE  NERVOUSNESS  OF  BOB. 


389 


paper ;  he  threw  himself  upon  the  lounge  and  counterfeited 
sleep ;  he  darted  suddenly  up  stairs  to  see  if  he  had  put  a 
sufficient  number  of  collars  in  his  trunk ;  he  darted  down 


again  and  tried  on  his  new  hat  for  the  fiftieth  time ;  he  stood 
by  the  fire  and  expressed  his  fear,  often  repeated  during  the 
day,  that  there  would  be  rain  on  the  morrow ;  he  tried  to 
wind  up  his  watch  four  times,  and  he  examined  his  pocket- 
book  over  and  over  again  to  ascertain  if  the  ring  was  safe. 
At  a  ridiculously  early  hour  he  said  he  was  tired  and  must 
go  to  bed ;  but  when  I  ascended  the  stairs  about  midnight, 
I  could  hear  him  still  moving  about.  He  was  nervous,  ex¬ 
cited  and  anxious. 

Before  daylight  dawned  Bob  was  out  of  bed  and  down 
stairs  smoking  and  guessing  at  the  weather.  When  we  de¬ 
scended,  he  was  in  extreme  agitation  lest  the  man  should  not 
come  with  the  bouquets.  When  the  flowers  did  arrive,  they 
looked  so  much  like  business  that  he  immediately  flew  up  to 
his  room  and  put  on  his  wedding  suit. 

Then  we  had  to  wait  nearly  two  hours  for  the  carriages, 
and  Bob  was  harassed  by  doubts  as  to  the  correctness  of  the 
appearance  of  his  neck-tie.  Three  times  Mrs.  Adeler  ap¬ 
plied  thread  and  needle  to  that  article  of  adornment,  and  a.t 


390 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


last  Bob  threw  it  away  and  assumed  another.  He  seemed 
to  have  a  strong  conviction  that  the  eyes  of  the  entire  as¬ 
sembly  would  be  concentrated  upon  that  white  tie.  Then  he 
put  on  his  gloves  and  sat,  flushed  and  uncomfortable  in  his 
new  clothing,  waiting  for  the  moment  of  his  departure.  Pres¬ 
ently  he  discovered  that  he  had  lost  one  of  his 
gold  shirt  buttons ;  and  after  a  very  long  and 
very  warm  search  for  it,  he  thought  he  felt  it  in 
his  boot.  I  procured  a  boot-jack  for  him ;  and 
when  the  button  was  found,  he  had  to  remove 
his  gloves  again  in  order  to  pull  his  boot  on. 
He  was  beginning  to  be  acutely  miserable  when, 
at  last,  the  carriages  arrived.  Then  Mrs.  Ad¬ 
der  came  down ;  and  when  I  had  buttoned  her 
gloves  with  a  hair-pin  and  criticised  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  her  dress,  we  went  out  to  the  street  and  drove  away. 

When  we  reached  Magruder’s,  the  doorway  was  surrounded 
by  quite  a  throng  of  persons.  The  excitement  had  reached 
even  the  lower  classes,  and  a  crowd  composed  of  slatternly 
women  with  babies  in  their  arms,  of  truant  servant-girls,  of 


unclean  children,  of  idle  men  and  noisy  boys,  stood  upon  the 
pavement  waiting  for  the  bride  to  come  out.  As  we  de¬ 
scended  from  the  carriages,  Bob  was  the  chief  object  of 
interest,  and  while  the  women  eyed  him  with  admiration  the 
boys  made  very  unpleasant  remarks  concerning  his  clothing, 
particularly  his  “claw-hammer  coat.”  When  we  entered 
the  house,  Bob  ascended  to  some  mysterious  region  above  to 
wait  for  Bessie,  while  we  examined  the  bridal  gifts  and  con- 


THE  CEREMONY. 


391 


▼ersed  with  the  paternal  Magruder,  who  was  plainly  uncom¬ 
fortable  in  his  wedding  garments. 

Then  the  bride  descended  amid  exclamations  of  admira¬ 
tion  from  the  servants  and  their  friends,  who  were  collected 
in  a  knot  at  the  rear  of  the  hall.  She  did  look  very  sweet 
and  pretty,  that  little  maiden,  in  her  lovely  white  dress,  with 
orange  blossoms  in  her  dark  hair,  with  a  radiant  light  in  her 
brown  eyes  and  with  a  faint  glow  warming  her  cheek.  Bob 
Parker  had  good  reason  to  feel  proud  as  he  led  the  fair  girl 
to  the  altar ;  and  he  was  proud,  despite  his  trepidation. 

And  when  our  salutations  were  over,  when  the  satins  and 
silks  were  all  arranged  and  the  bridesmaids  and  groomsmen 
were  ready,  we  marched  through  the  critical  assembly  out¬ 
side  the  door  and  drove  swiftly  to  the  church.  At  the  gate 
we  found,  awaiting  the  wedding  party,  another  throng  of 
spectators,  among  them  that  gloomy  undertaker,  with  his 
chin  hooked  upon  the  wall,  and  his  mind  still  brooding 
over  his  wTrongs. 

Then  we  heard  the  organ  playing  the  Coronation  March, 
and  as  the  bridal  party  entered  the  church  and  swept  up  the 
aisle  the  Wedding  March  burst  forth.  There  was  a  flutter¬ 
ing  and  a  turning  of  heads  in  the  pews ;  then  silence,  and 
then  the  ceremony  began.  Bob  was  pale  as  a  ghost,  and 
his  replies  could  hardly  be  heard,  but  Bessie  spoke  with 
perfect  distinctness.  It  is  strange  that  women  on  these  occa¬ 
sions  should  always  be  more  composed  than  men. 

And  when  the  solemn  words  were  said,  Bob  kissed  his 
wife  gallantly,  and  then,  as  the  organ  uttered  Mendelssohn’s 
lovely  melody  “  I  waited  for  the  Lord,”  the  two  turned 
about  and  in  the  aisle  met  hosts  of  friends  eager  to  congrat¬ 
ulate  them.  At  any  other  time  Bob  might  have  been  mor¬ 
tified  that  he  was  a  person  of  secondary  importance.  It  was 
the  bride  that  the  people  looked  at,  and  not  the  groom. 

But  now  he  was  too  happy  and  too  ready  to  forget  himself 
32* 


392 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


He  was  too  glad  to  have  his  wife  greeted  warmly  to  think 
of  any  other  thing.  By  the  time  the  church  porch  was 
reached  every  woman  present  had  the  details  of  Bessie’s 
costume  fixed  indelibly  in  her  mind,  ready  for  description 
and  explanation  to  her  friends;  and  while  the  bell  in  the 
steeple  rang  out  a  merry  peal,  we  returned  to  the  Magruder 
mansion,  where,  in  the  company  of  friends,  we  passed  the 
few  hours  before  the  departure  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Parker. 

Bev.  Dr.  Hopkins  was  there,  beaming  at  the  guests  through 
his  gold  spectacles,  and  making  himself  very  comfortable 
with  the  oysters  and  terrapin  and  chicken  salad.  He  even 
had  a  smile  for  Colonel  Bangs,  who  was  discussing  with  Mr. 
Magruder  the  probable  effect  upon  the  railway  interests  of 
the  country  of  an  article  in  the  Argus  of  that  morning  upon 


“  Our  Grinding  Monopolies.”  It  was  interesting  to  listen  to 
the  colonel. 

“  I  tell  you,”  said  he,  with  vehemence,  “  the  time  has  come 


GUNN  IMPROVES  THE  HOUR. 


393 


for  the  overthrow  of  these  gigantic  railroad  corporations; 
the  time  has  come  for  a  free  press  to  open  its  batteries  upon 
the  monopolies  which  are  trampling  the  rights  of  the  people 
beneath  their  feet.  There  will  be  a  bitter  fight,  sir,  mark 
me ;  it  will  be  a  battle  to  the  death.  But  the  Argus  enters 
the  lists  boldly  and  without  fear.  The  article  of  to-day  un- 
sheaths  the  sword;  it  warns  the  railway  tyrants  that  the 
battle  has  begun.” 

“  I  am  sure .  it  will  alarm  them,”  said  Mr.  Magruder. 
‘‘And  you,  I  suppose,  are  willing  to  give  up  everything 
for  the  cause  ?  How  about  your  annual  free  pass  to  Phila¬ 
delphia  ?” 

“  Oh,  ah !  as  for  that,”  exclaimed  the  colonel,  “  you  per¬ 
haps  observed  that  I  expressly  excepted  our  own  road  and 
complimented  its  officers.  A  man  must  not  go  to  extremes 
in  these  matters,  Magruder.  And  then  there’s  the  adver¬ 
tising,  you  know !  No,  sir ;  we  must  proceed,  as  it  were, 
cautiously  at  first.  Precipitate  action  might  ruin  every¬ 
thing.” 

Dr.  Tobias  Jones  also  had  overcome  his  professional  ani¬ 
mosity  to  Mrs.  Magruder,  and  he  was  not  only  present,  but 
he  was  conversing  pleasantly  with  that  lady,  probably  upon 
the  subjects  of  bilious  fever  and  aneurisms.  Benjamin  P. 
Gunn  was  there,  bustling  around  among  the  guests  and  pay¬ 
ing  especial  attention  to  Bob.  When  I  saw  Gunn  in  earnest 
conversation  with  the  groom  and  caught  the  words,  “  in  favor 
of  your  wife,  you  know,”  I  became  aware  of  the  fact  that 
Benjamin  was  improving  the  festive  hour  with  an  attempt 
to  do  a  bit  of  business.  Even  Judge  Pitman  was  present, 
for  Mr.  Magruder  liked  the  old  man  and  was  in  a  gracious 
mood  upon  that  day.  I  welcomed  the  judge  heartily  when, 
dressed  in  a  swallow-tail  coat  of  a  surprising  pattern,  he 
came  up  to  me  and  said, 

“Splendid  send-off  for  them  young  folks,  ain’t  it?  I  tell 


394 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


you,  they  didn’t  do  things  this  way  when  me  an’  Harriet 
consolidated!  We  lived  down  yer  in  Kent;  an’  when  we 
were  married  by  the  squire,  I  give  him  fifty  cents  an’  then 

went  out  an’  borrowed  a 
waggin  so’s  me  an’  Harriet 
could  take  a  little  drive. 
We  come  up  yer  to  New 
Cassel  an’  stayed  two  days 
at  the  tavern,  an’  then 
drove  back  an’  begun 
work  agin,  jes’  ’s  if  nothin’ 
oncommon  had  happened.” 

“It  was  not  the  custom 
then,  I  suppose,  to  make  a 
display  on  such  occasions?” 

“No,  sir!  People  hadn’t 
no  money  to  git  up  sich 
fodderin’  as  this  yer.  They 
had  to  go  slower.  Still,” 
mused  the  judge,  “  it’s  all  right — it’s  all  right.  Gittin’  mar¬ 
ried  ’s  a  big  event ;  an’  if  you  kin  make  a  fuss  over  it,  you 
ought  to.  If  my  daughter  ever  tries  it,  I’ll  give  her  the 
best  I  kin  buy.  A  weddin’  like  this  is  nice  all  ’round,  but 
the  wimmen  in  partickler  is  amazin’  fond  of  sich  things. 
If  you’ll  excuse  me,  I  believe  I’ll  try  another  fried  oyster.” 

There  was  another  exciting  time  when  Bessie,  at  last, 
came  down  in  her  traveling  dress  and  stood  with  Bob  ready 
to  depart.  While  the  cabman  carried  the  trunks  to  the  car¬ 
riage,  Bessie  said  her  farewells.  There  was  a  good-bye  for 
mother,  uttered  with  tears  in  the  eyes  of  both 
of  them,  a  tender  adieu  to  father,  kisses  for  the 
women  and  a  shake  of  the  hand  for  the  men,  and 
then  they  entered  the  carriage.  We  flung  an 
old  shoe  or  two  after  them  and  waved  our  hands;  and 


THE  PRINCE  AND  PRINCESS. 


395 


Cooley’s  boy  gave  them  a  parting  salute  with  a  stone  that 
shivered  the  carriage  window.  We  watched  them  as  they 
went  down  the  street,  and  saw,  now  and  then,  a  handker¬ 
chief  fluttered  toward  us ;  then  they  turned  a  corner  and 
disappeared. 

It  was  a  little  lonely  in  the  cottage  upon  that  evening  with 
Bob  no  longer  a  member  of  the  family.  We  shall  miss  him, 
with  his  sprightliness  and  fun ;  and  we  shall  half  incline  to 
regret  that  the  little  drama  we  have  watched  so  long  with 
eager  interest  is  ended,  even  though  the  prince,  after  all  his 
suffering,  has  found  the  princess  and  wedded  her,  and  though 
at  last  they  have  gone  “  across  the  hills  and  far  away  ”  be¬ 
yond  “  the  utmost  purple  rim  of  that  new  world,  which  is 
the  old.” 

We  sat  in  the  old  room  in  silence  for  a  while,  both  look¬ 
ing  at  the  fire  and  both  thinking,  not  so  much  of  the  events 
of  the  day  as  of  the  promise  of  the  future  for  those  two 
voyagers  into  the  golden  regions  of  delight.  Then  Mrs. 
Adeler  said,  with  half  a  sigh : 

“  I  do  hope  they  will  be  happy !” 

“  And  so  do  I ;  and  I  really  believe  they  will  be,  for  both 
of  them  have  sweet  tempers  and  good  common  sense  ;  those 
are  the  qualities  that  are  likely  to  ensure  the  felicity  of  mar¬ 
ried  folks.” 

“  But  it  is  a  great  risk  for  Bob  to  run ;  and  for  Bessie  too, 
for  that  matter.” 

“  So  it  is ;  but  it  is  a  risk  that  may  fairly  be  taken  when 
the  judgment  gives  approval  to  the  choice  of  the  heart. 
Lovers  do  not  bother  themselves,  however,  a  great  deal  with 
the  possibilities  of  the  future.  They  have  only  sunshine  now, 
and  it  seems  as  if  so  clear  a  sky  could  never  breed  cloud  and 
storm.  It  is  a  happy  thing  for  them,  as  well  as  for  the  rest 
of  us,  that  no  human  ingenuity  can  lift  the  veil  that  shuts 


396 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


from  our  eyes  the  mysteries  of  the  years  to  come.  Think 
what  a  journey  it  is  that  began  to-day !  Separate  and  apart 
they  have  come  thus  far ;  but  now  they  are  to  travel  during 
all  their  lives  together,  over  rough  places  as  well  as  where 
the  way  is  smooth.  The  power  of  each  over  the  happiness 
of  the  other  is  infinite.  He  can  make  her  wholly  miserable, 
and  she  can  utterly  destroy  his  peace.  A  violent  demon¬ 
stration  is  not  required.  A  little  indifference  at  first,  a 
harsh  word,  then  a  growing  coldness,  then  neglect,  and  for 
ever  afterward  complete  separation  of  heart  and  soul  and 
feeling,  though  outwardly  they  seem  united. 

“And  even  if  they  should  be  as  happy  as  the  most  blessed 
of  us,  it  is  well  that  their  imaginations  should  throw  about 
the  future  a  glamour  which  will  hide  the  reality.  A  tried 
and  well-proved  love  will  hardly  bear  the  shock  when  mis¬ 
fortune  and  poverty  come ;  it  sometimes  permits  an  almost 
fatal  display  of  ill-temper  when  there  are  sleepless  nights 
with  sick  and  peevish  children,  when  the  soul  is  vexed  with 
the  cares  of  business,  with  the  smaller  trials  of  life,  and  with 
the  myriad  petty  annoyances  that  are  encountered  in  the 
path  of  every  man.  There  are  few  of  us  who  are  heroes 
among  the  troubles  of  common  life.  Perhaps  we  bear  the 
heavy  blows  courageously  enough ;  but  we  cry  out  when  we 
are  stung  by  the  pigmy  arrows  that  are  shot  at  us  every  day, 
at  home  and  in  the  world.  The  truly  great  man  is  he  who 
is  patient  and  forbearing  beneath  small  vexations.  The 
real  hero  is  he  who  bears  the  burden  of  his  life,  with  its 
swarm  of  minor  troubles,  with  calm,  sweet  evenness  of 
temper  and  with  steadfast  courage.  The  peevish  and  the 
irritable  are  the  enemies  of  peace  in  this  world.  Our  lad 
and  lass,  we  may  hope,  will  find  a  place  for  themselves 
among  those  who  wisely  choose  the  better  part. 

“  And  now,  Mrs.  Adeler,  would  it  not  be  well  to  close  our 
record,  as  the  hero  and  the  heroine  depart  ?  It  is  the  custom. 


SUMMING  UP. 


397 


in  the  novel  and  upon  the  stage,  to  end  the  story  when  the 
knight  and  the  lady  who  have  loved  and  suffered  through 
all  the  pages  and  all  the  acts  are  made  man  and  wife.  We 
have  not  done  much  with  our  pair ;  but  it  is  enough  that  we 
have  told  a  simple  story  of  an  old  passion  in  still  another 
form,  and  that  we  have  given  the  chronicles  of  the  village 
with  what  quality  of  humor  we  could  infuse  into  them,  but 
without  malice  or  vulgarity  and  without  irreverence.  I  have 
no  patience  with  those  who  seek  to  find  amusement  by  com¬ 
mitting  these  faults.  There  is  matter  enough  in  harmless 
things  for  sportiveness  ;  and  rather  than  try  to  excite  mirth 
by  hurting  the  feelings  of  my  neighbors,  by  stooping  to 
coarseness,  or  by  speaking  with  levity  of  things  that  are 
sacred,  I  would  consent  to  write  only  books  that  should  be 
as  solemn  as  tragedy  itself.  We  have  had  some  strange  ex¬ 
periences  since  the  record  began,  and  we  should  be  very  dull 
indeed  if  we  had  not  learned  something  from  them.  Of  one 
thing  we  are  completely  convinced :  it  is  that  a  man  who  is 
made  miserable  because  his  neighbors  will  not  do  as  he 
wishes  them  to  do  had  better  not  come  to  this  or  any 
other  village  with  the  intent  to  be  made  happy.  The 
man  who  voluntarily  becomes  a  hermit  is  a  fool.  A  man 
of  sense  must  necessarily  desire  to  live  with  his  fellows 
and  to  enjoy  their  society,  their  sympathy  and  the  comforts 
that  can  be  obtained  with  their  assistance.  He  can  have 
these  only  by  making  sacrifices  for  them.  He  must  not 
only  give  up  some  of  his  natural  rights  as  an  individual,  but 
he  must  make  up  his  mind  to  endure  patiently  disagreeable 
things  that  are  done  by  his  neighbors.  He  may  flee  from 
the  city  to  escape  the  professor  of  music  who  hammers  a 
piano  ceaselessly,  but  in  his  new  home  he  will  certainly  find  * 
a  compensating  nuisance  of  some  kind.  Until  all  men  learn 
to  think  and  act  alike,  he  will  find  everywhere  in  the  world 
those  who  are  fond  of  the  things  that  he  hates,  and  who  will 


398 


OUT  OF  THE  HURLY-BURLY. 


do  things  that  he  thinks  should  be  left  undone.  •  The  man, 
therefore,  who  comes  to  the  village  in  pursuit  of  perfect 
peace  and  quiet  of  course  will  not  find  them.  He  will  en¬ 
counter  the  disagreeable  practices  and  peculiarities  of  other 
people  precisely  as  he  did  in  the  city ;  he  will  be  called  upon 
to  endure  annoyances  as  aggravating  as  any  of  those  from 
which  he  has  flown.  He  can  have  comparative  contentment 
and  repose  in  either  place  only  by  determining  to  have  them 
despite  his  neighbors.  It  is  probable  that  men  will  always 
have  in  this  world  sharp  corners  and  rough  surfaces  with 
which  they  will  jag  and  tear  each  other  as  they  roll  on¬ 
ward  in  the  swift  current  of  life.  Perhaps  we  shall  have 
smoothness  and  evenness  when  we  enter  Paradise.  T  hope 
so,  at  any  rate.  And  meantime  let  us  all  stop  growling 
about  evils  which  cannot  be  cured. 

“  And  now  I  will  conclude  our  meek  little  story.  Perhaps 
regretfully  I  will  close  the  door  through  which  the  public 
has  been  suffered  to  peep  in  upon  the  movements  of  our 
quiet  life  at  home  and  in  the  village,  and  thus  will  end  the 
spectacle.  That  life  will  continue,  but  it  shall  be  sacred  to 
ourselves,  and  the  events  that  give  it  interest  shall  go  un¬ 
recorded.” 


